


Too Much To Drink

by spicyarnor



Series: The Prince And His Bodyguard [13]
Category: Trails of Cold Steel, 英雄伝説 閃の軌跡 | The Legend of Heroes: Sen no kiseki (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, CS2 Endgame Spoilers, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of kissing, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-CS2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicyarnor/pseuds/spicyarnor
Summary: After the events at Valflame Palace, Prince Olivert is not handling defeat very well... Or, rather, he's letting the wine handle it for him. Mueller steps in to put an end to this and make sure he doesn't drink himself to death, but, well... Things, as always, don't exactly go as planned.Notnoncon/dubcon, so be at ease.Ongoing fic, will likely be particularly long once I'm done.





	1. Too Much To Drink

Mueller could smell the alcohol as soon as he walked into the room. The royal chambers on the Courageous, so richly decorated, were littered with various dropped or crumpled papers. The table in front of the prince was a mess, covered in empty wine glasses, dirty plates and a few empty bottles of red wine. Olivert himself, coatless and sunken in to a plush armchair, was now pouring another full glass, hands a little shaky, bits of wine splashing from the edges of the cup and staining the carpet. Having seen Mueller, he raised his glass in greeting.

"Mueller, my dear friend; love of my life! My heart's desire," he punctuated his slightly slurred endearments with a big gulp from his wine glass, "Come! Drink with me! Don't be shy..."

Mueller stalked over to him in a hurry, grabbing the glass out of the shocked prince's hand and setting it at the other end of the table. "What the hell do you think you're doing? What is all this?" 

Olivert waved his hand dismissively. "Oh Mueller, don't be like that! It's just a little fun! Please, tonight we drink! We," he hiccupped, "forget our worries and drown ourselves in indescribable pleasure." He made a move to seductively unbutton his wine-flecked white button-up shirt in a way that was far more clumsy than sexy, fingers fumbling with the buttons.

"You've clearly drowned yourself enough," Mueller scolded, expression menacing, though it didn't seem to phase the prince, who was still struggling to undo his second button.

"Stop that," he said firmly, grabbing one of Olivert's wrists. He struggled, trying to pull his hand free.

"Unhand me!"

Mueller sighed in exasperation, continuing to grip his wrist and look him in the eye. "Look. I know the situation is terrible, but you aren't going to be able to do a goddamn thing to stop Osborne or help clean up the damage from the civil war if you keep doing this to yourself. It's the third night in a row, Olivier! You need to sober up already!"

The blonde looked up at him, his wide, slightly unfocused eyes beginning to well up with tears. Mueller took a sharp breath in and released his hand with a sigh. "I'll keep you company for the rest of the night. Just no more drinking, okay?"

"Mueller," Olivert sniffed, "you're the greatest friend a man could ask for, and also the worst..."

"Gee. Thanks?" The soldier shook his head and then began clearing the table, finally moving all the bottles behind a folding partition, where they would be out of sight. Then he sat down in the armchair next to Olivier's, leaning his sword against the table.

"Look, I know you're drunk, so we don't have to talk about politics or anything. I'm just here to make sure you don't drink yourself to death. Just... Do whatever you usually do-" The brunette bit his tongue. "On second thought, please don't. Keep your clothes on at the very least."

Olivert pouted, taking his hand out of his slightly open shirt with a loud, drunk sounding whine. "I can't do it, Mueller! You're snuffing all the joy out of my life.... please..." he begged, throwing himself back against his chair in a slump.

Mueller sighed, trying to think of something that would make the prince's behavior more tolerable. A whole night of trying to keep a very drunk, precariously unstable Olivier entertained without letting him get naked or having any suitable diversions to offer him was one of the most difficult prospects he had ever found himself facing. The overwhelming bleakness of the state of the country right now without Olivier's brilliant plans to follow made things exponentially worse. There had to be some way to make this night easier...

Mueller eyed the partition. No, that was probably a bad idea. Or, well, _was_ it? He didn't partake nearly as often as the prince, and never on duty, but he could handle his liquor... And for Olivier, this would probably count as a diversion... 

Frustrated with the whole situation himself, he found himself saying, "What if I drink with you?"

The prince blinked at him, then smiled widely. 

"No, no more alcohol for you," Olivert's smile faded at this, "but... I'll drink, and stay with you until you sober up or fall asleep. Would that take your mind off things for a while?"

Olivert grinned with a lopsided look of satisfaction, pointing at Mueller. "I would _love_ to see you drunk. It would be the greatest honor, my love. You have my fullest permission with all," he waved a hand, "the illustrious authority I provide. Drink to your heart's content."

The brunette closed his eyes. "Okay, I think I might be changing my mind here."

"You can't back out of your promise now! You have a duty," The prince nodded towards him, eyes closing in an expression that would look thoughtful if he wasn't still smirking.

Mueller groaned, standing up. He had objections to all of that, but voicing them would be pointless. He found a bottle of whiskey and a clean cup among the mess and poured himself a glass, sitting back down next to Olivier, whose eyes were on him the entire time.

He raised the glass to his lips, then stopped, noticing he had the blonde's complete attention. "Can you not stare at me like that?"

"No, no, ignore me, carry on," the prince said, waving his hand exaggeratedly again. "You wanted me to take my mind off things, right?"

Mueller gave him a pointed stare but was only met with a cheerful smile. "Ugh, whatever," he grumbled, and took a sip of his drink.

It was good whiskey. Very good. Excellent flavor, and went down much smoother than the stuff Mueller ordinarily drank, that he'd thought was "fancy." There certainly were some perks to being invited to drink by a prince, he thought idly, then took another sip, then another.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself," Olivert hummed, elbows propped up on the arm of his chair, chin in hands. "I had no idea what you liked to drink. Straight whiskey, hm? How very.... strong and manly," he said in a husky voice, raising his eyebrows.

The brunette stared at Olivier blankly, then back at his half-empty glass. "I think I'm going to _need_ to drink to put up with you," he complained, then proceeded to finish his drink.

"Ah," the blonde said, watching Mueller as he emptied his glass with a scowl, "anxious to get to the fun part, are we?" He gave him a smile that was absolutely dirty.

Mueller felt his cheeks turn red, though it was mostly just from the alcohol. A slow, mellow buzz had been creeping on and downing the rest of his glass like that had certainly accelerated things. "Please shut up, Olivier." He rolled his eyes and began to refill his cup.

"Oh my dearest Mueller," Olivert began, affectionate words slurring together, "my closest friend and confidante, surely you know me well enough by now that you know that I...." he trailed off, stumbling over the last few words. "That I..."

"…Don't?" Mueller offered, taking a sip.

"Yes, quite right, that," the prince agreed.

The brunette sighed, drinking again, then setting his glass down on the table with a clink.

"Unless, of course," Olivert continued, "you _make_ me unable to speak. Perhaps with some of this...?" He made a move to grab the whiskey bottle, but Mueller very quickly snatched it out of his reach. Olivert whined, a small, defeated sound.

" _No._ " Mueller said sternly, setting his liquor instead on a side table on the opposite side of him from the prince. "You can have food and water, but none of this."

"Mueller, does your cruelty know no end...?" The prince slumped back in his chair. "After all we've been through together... After everything I've done for you, you would betray me..."

The brunette snorted, idly swilling his glass in one hand, watching the caramel liquid slosh around gently. "What you've done for me?"

"I make your life interesting," Olivert said defensively. "I fill your days with suspense, intrigue, and beautiful music," he said, punctuating his speech with dramatic, messy gestures. "What would you even do without me? Nothing fun, I suspect."

Mueller found himself laughing. "Fun? You think chasing after you, trying to keep your damn clothes on, always being one misstep away from watching you cause some kind of international incident is fun?"

The prince faltered, thinking about this for a moment. Then he turned his head towards Mueller, a half-hearted smile on his face. "It must be, if you're still here."

There was a moment of silence, then the brunette sighed. "I'm not here to have fun. I'm here to keep you out of trouble and help you change this country for the better." He glanced over at Olivert, who was looking down, expression unreadable. "...And you should really be drinking water. I'll go get some."

Mueller stood and began to walk past the prince to the sink and ice box across the room, but jerked to a stop as Olivert grabbed his mantle mid-step.

"You..." He began quietly, looking down, "don't just do this because you have to, right?"

Mueller tensed, then relaxed, letting out a quiet breath and speaking in an unusually soft voice. "Of course not."

He turned to look at the prince, who smiled weakly at him and glanced to the side, but did not let go of the edge of his cape. Mueller could see tears forming in Olivert's eyes. He frowned, not quite knowing what to say.

"Olivier, I..." he began, taking a breath and trying to gather his thoughts through a slight haze, "If I was just in this to help my military career or carry out my family's duty I would have given up years ago. You're way too much work for anyone to put up with unless they actually... care."

The prince's expression softened, bleary eyes widening and focusing as he looked up at Mueller and slowly dropped his grip on the cape. Then, his eyebrows knitting together and a wry smile on his face, he let out a short laugh, looking away. "Is that a confession?"

Mueller groaned in reply, crossing the distance to the sink in a few long steps and pouring a tall glass of water, then after a moment of consideration, a second as well.

He shoved a glass into Olivert's palms. "Drink."

Olivert looked down at his glass as the brunette returned to his seat, but did not drink. He watched as Mueller brought his own glass of water to his lips--

"No," he said simply, shaking his head.

Mueller lowered the glass. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I'll make you a deal," the prince began, "I will drink a cup of water for every cup of whiskey you drink. Otherwise," he held out his glass at arm's length as if it were something distasteful, "no water for me."

Mueller stared. He was already affected enough to be feeling a bit more emotional than usual, he noticed. Would he have said something like that sober? Maybe, but not with those words. If the prince remembered all this, it would be difficult to live it down.

At the same time, it was his job to make sure Olivert sobered up. He was teetering back and forth between inconsolable and insufferable and didn't seem the least bit sleepy. Plus, there was no way he would be able to force the man to drink water, as appealing as the idea sounded right now. And as stressful as things were at the moment, Mueller needed another drink.

Judgement not exactly in top form, Mueller found himself setting his water down, picking up his mostly full cup of whiskey, and saying, "Alright, fine, I'll finish this. Then you drink that glass of water."

Olivert smiled, setting his glass on his side table. "Gladly."

Mueller drank. Fine alcohol like this he would rather sit and savor, but he drank much faster than he wanted to, annoyed at himself and annoyed at the prince for his stupid bargaining tactics that he was somehow able to come up with even when practically wasted.

He poured the last sip down his throat in a hurry, and slammed his cup down a little harder than he meant to. "Your turn, Olivier."

"Wait, that cup wasn't full, was it? Pour some more," The prince said, words overlapping slightly.

Mueller sighed, barely restraining his annoyance, and poured another quarter of a glass. "More," Olivert instructed again, and he filled it to about a third. "Good." 

Mueller drank down his glass a little too fast and glared at the blonde, who was looking very smug and punchable to him at the moment. "NOW you drink."

Olivert shook his head dismissively. "Of course, what do you take me for?"

'Lots of things,' Mueller thought as he watched the prince take a sip, then begin gulping his drink as if perhaps he just now realized he was thirsty.

Olivert finished his glass of water with a satisfied sound. "I'll drink that other glass too if you pour yourself more..."

Perhaps if he hadn't already drank so much in a short period of time, Mueller would not have shoved his water glass into the prince's outstretched hand, then filled his cup up to the brim and started tipping the thing back like water. Perhaps he wasn't quite as good at handling his liquor as he thought, when he wasn't whiling away a rare evening off nursing a half full cup or two of somewhat weaker spirits. Perhaps this was a bit much.

Perhaps this was all a bad idea?

Halfway through his drink he noticed everything felt.... Smooth. The lights were bright and reflected off his glass and his hands, sparkling, dazzling. He took another sip and it tasted _so good_ , the taste alone would have been intoxicating even if it hadn't been extremely strong alcohol. His stiff shoulders went limp and he allowed himself to sink back into his chair with a sigh, enjoying the feel of the cool glass pressed to his lips.

Suddenly his cup was empty, and he turned to look at the prince, who was smiling at him gleefully. He was so _bright_ , like the lights shining down on them from the chandelier above, and light glinted off his golden hair in a way that was nearly mesmerizing. His posture was open and admiring, and with a hand on his chin he spoke, "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

Mueller sighed. He was now, somehow. "What the hell... Why not? You said I could... What else is there to do tonight anyway?" He dropped the empty glass onto his side table with a light thunk. "You have very... good alcohol."

"Only the best for royalty," Olivier said with a dramatic gesture and a teasing smile. "And of course, my most loyal companion."

"Of course," the brunette agreed, leaning his head back against the plush headrest and closing his eyes.

The prince watched his aide for a few moments, admiring his strong profile, noting his relaxed posture so rarely seen. It looked absolutely great on him, he thought, and he stood up, wobbling a little, and took fluid, messy steps over to his chair.

Mueller's eyes opened from his brief rest at the pressure of Olivert's weight against the side of his chair. His hands pushed down on the armrest, propping him up, as he peered down at Mueller's face with curious, pleased eyes.

The brunette sat up a bit in his seat, furrowing his brow. "Relaxation looks incredibly good on you," Olivert said, chin in hands, face flushed from drink.

"Olivier, please," Mueller rolled his eyes. Was it hot in here? No, it must be the alcohol. The prince's face was awfully close... "I'm not so drunk I would let you just do whatever you want with me."

The blonde pouted, looking offended. "I would never! I am just admiring you, that is all," he said, looking over Mueller's reddened face with great enjoyment. "Great beauty like yours deserves every bit of admiration. And besides, how would I even..." he trailed off, eyes catching on Mueller's slightly parted lips. "How would I do that if I'm also drunk?"

Mueller snorted, then began laughing. "That doesn't even make any sense."

"Love never does," he said, lifting his head up off one hand and gesturing with it. "That's what makes it so exquisitely beautiful, and painful, and important."

"If you say so," the brunette said with a sigh.

"Do you want some more?" Olivier asked, tipsily rising and grabbing the bottle of whiskey, then offering it to Mueller with a playful smile and an outstretched arm.

"Hey, you're not supposed to touch that," Mueller grumbled, taking the bottle from him. And... wait, wasn't there something else Mueller was forgetting? Well, whatever it was, it couldn't have been too important.

He was feeling okay now, and Olivier was smiling, but even as intoxicated as he now felt, he could vividly recall the hurt, suffering looks on the prince's face.

Pouring himself another drink as the blonde watched with interest, elbows leaning on the arm of Mueller's chair, Mueller found himself feeling very strongly that he wanted to support Olivier in any way that he could. But it was hard to find any words to say that could help.

The situation was becoming more and more grim. The annexation of Crossbell had been completed, with many casualties in the process. Class VII, Prince Olivert's shining hope for the nation, had gone their separate ways, and Rean Schwarzer, who had held the class together and done so many things to stop the civil war from progressing, was the son of Osborne and now seemingly another pawn in his agenda.

At this point, having closely observed political movements within the capital, it was becoming clear that it was only a small matter of time until the Courageous was forced to return to the ground. The prince's gambit had ultimately failed, though he had prevented many deaths.

There was still a small bit of hope. There were still things that could be done. But it meant essentially returning to square one. This was the biggest failure Olivier had ever faced, and he was not handling it very well.

And to be honest, Mueller really didn't blame him. 

What could he do to help?

He set the bottle down on his side table and looked into his drink, thinking, brow furrowed in a concerned expression.

"Mueller," Olivier said, looking at him. He wasn't smiling anymore. "Are you alright?"

Mueller snapped back into reality. "Sorry." He shook his head, leaning back into the chair more. "I'm fine. I just started thinking about paperwork again," he lied, frowning at his cup and taking a sip.

"Well that's no fun at all," the prince scolded. "You're not allowed to do that anymore. I forbid you," he pointed a finger a little too close to Mueller's face, wobbling precariously, scooting the chair over as he leaned his weight into it to maintain balance.

"Okay, okay, let's get you sat down somewhere safe," Mueller sighed, setting his glass down and standing up. He felt a headrush, and his legs were a bit unsteady too, but he had faith in his many years of training to keep him on his feet as he grabbed Olivier's arm and draped it over his shoulder, grabbing his waist to keep him balanced.

Olivier giggled. "Such a gentleman," he teased, ignoring Mueller's resigned sigh as he walked him over to the couch on the other side of the table, where Olivier wouldn't get the urge to get up and come over to Mueller if the two were sitting next to one another.

Mueller sat down with the prince, making sure he got onto the couch okay, then got up to grab his glass before sitting a couple feet apart from him. _No more after this drink,_ he told himself, taking another sip.

"Mueller," Olivier said again. "Mueller~"

" _What?_ " the brunette asked with a frown, continuing to sip his whiskey and think about what he could say.

"Your name has such a nice sound to it," the prince explained, closing his eyes, relaxing back into the couch with a wiggle of his shoulders. "I just thought you should know."

"Uh... Thanks," Mueller mumbled, downing the last little bit of his drink, taking off his boots, and scooting his empty cup across the table with his outstretched foot.

He looked over at Olivier, who was sunken into the couch, feet on the table, legs crossed at the ankles. His eyes fluttered open and he looked back at Mueller with a small, fragile smile.

Mueller took a steadying breath in through his nose, letting it out slowly. Liquid courage or no, he felt nervous, knowing what he wanted to say but having no idea how it was going to come out.

"Olivier," he began, turning towards him, "I just want you to know that no matter what happens... no matter how bad things get, I will always be on your side." Heat rose to his cheeks; it wasn't like him to say these kinds of cheesy things, but the whiskey was lubricating and it all just started to fall out. "I believe in you. You aren't... You aren't alone."

He looked the prince in the eyes with embarrassed sincerity, and he looked back with this expression of overwhelmed surprise that turned into teary, bittersweet longing, which Mueller didn't understand why he was making but it made his heart ache. 

Then suddenly, Olivier had crossed the distance between them and pressed his lips to his, hands at the back of Mueller's head and his shoulders, fingers threading up through his hair and making him shiver. His lips were hot against him and he smelled and tasted strongly of wine, and before Mueller had a chance to consciously think about what was happening and assess the situation, he was softening into the kiss and letting the prince's tongue probe into his mouth, flicking lightly against his own.

Olivier was very drunk but he was _good_ at kissing, and Mueller found himself totally overwhelmed at the messy yet skilled kiss, unable to stop himself from returning it, feeling the prince shudder with relief as he did.

The kiss was hurried and passionate, like they had both been hungry for so long and couldn't wait to devour each other. Mueller wasn't a big wine drinker but the taste of the prince's tongue was delicious, and, heart pounding, he brought his hands to his waist and neck as they kissed to pull him closer, skin so very warm through his soft silk shirt, long hair brushing against the backs of his fingers. Olivier let out a little moan into Mueller's mouth at his touch, and suddenly Mueller realized what he was doing.

He was kissing the prince. The very drunk prince. The very drunk and _emotionally fragile_ prince.

But he was drunk too and it felt so good. He never thought he would do this, always put up careful barriers between them to make sure he did not cross any inappropriate lines, always took Olivier's obscene flirting as jokes in poor taste that they both knew would go nowhere. No matter how much love and devotion he felt towards him, this kind of thing could not ever happen.

But it was happening, Olivier gripping the back of his head tighter as he kissed Mueller so passionately it made him ache and conscious thought was a real struggle.

He somehow fought his impulses long enough to break the kiss for air, panting, hand sliding down from the prince's neck to his shoulder. "Olivier," he said, looking at his face. His lips were parted as he caught his breath, swollen and red. His cheeks were brightly flushed, and he met Mueller's gaze with a genuine smile glazed over with lust. Aidios, he was beautiful. 'What are we doing,' he'd meant to ask, but looking at him, the words died on his tongue.

He kissed the prince again, forcefully this time, chest pressed against him as he took the lead and began exploring his mouth, Olivier moaning softly and returning the kiss with equal need. Olivier tasted so good and felt so good in his arms, soft and hot and inviting, and Mueller found himself wanting to touch him more, to bring his lips all over the man's body --

"Mueller," Olivier moaned with pleasant surprise as he broke away from his mouth to kiss up the prince's jawline, flicking his tongue out as he kissed, and tasting his skin - lightly salty, fruity and pleasant - then kissing the tender skin at his neck underneath his ear. The prince melted into his arms at this, breathing out a shuddering breath, and Mueller kept kissing him there, sucking and gently biting at him, spurred on by the prince making little sounds of pleasure and clinging to him, hands tightly gripping his back. 

He was so eager for Mueller to touch him - was it just the drink? No, Mueller knew that Olivier found him attractive, at least from a physical standpoint. All of his teasing wasn't based off of nothing. But having him respond like this was so satisfying, and it was so difficult to pull himself away...

"We're drunk," Mueller managed to say, still kissing back up Olivier's jaw and cheek despite himself.

"We are," the prince replied, pulling away, then kissing Mueller again, tongue doing crazy things that made him wobble precariously and nearly fall backwards, somehow managing to prop a hand up behind him to catch himself before letting himself lean back against the arm of the couch. Olivier followed him down, straddling his legs, practically in his lap as he ran his hands up his chest, then cupped Mueller's face in his hands, kissing him again. "Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes," the brunette gasped, Olivier's lips closing on his neck, laying teasing, wet kisses slowly up towards his chin and then back down again. Aidios, this felt amazing. But, "I mean, no, we shouldn't be doing this," he protested, even as a soft groan escaped his lips as Olivier pulled down on the edge of his collar, sucking hard on his neck.

The blonde raised his head and looked down at Mueller, expression serious, some of the weakness from before back at the corners of his eyes. "Why not?"

Oh.

Well, there were lots of reasons, right? One being that a Vander shouldn't really be fooling around with the prince he was sworn to protect. It was kind of bad to mix those kinds of emotions and duty - it clouds your judgement.

Another reason being that they were both drunk - and who knew if Olivier would have even wanted this sober. Okay, maybe he _would_ , but...

The biggest reason of all though was that if Olivier wasn't serious about this, if he was just playing around... This wouldn't end well.

Mueller loved Olivier. He had loved him for years, despite how much the man drove him up a wall on a daily basis. But it had to stay platonic, and he'd been resigned to that for a very long time. He had tried and mostly succeeded at convincing himself he would be content with how things were. This wasn't even a possibility he had considered any chance of happening.

Olivert was a prince, not only that, but the Debaucherous Prince; and Mueller knew if things continued he would really fall for him hard. And if the next week he was out there seducing some young thing in a bar again...

But Olivier was looking at him so earnestly, with a little bit of hesitant hurt, and those reasons seemed to all be far less important right now. 

"I -" he began, faltering, trying to find words now that Olivier had torn his objections to pieces with just a look. The prince furrowed his brow slightly, and Mueller brought a hand up to touch his face gently, thumb at his cheek.

Olivier glanced at his hand, leaning into the caress, then looked back into Mueller's eyes, expression softening, eyes searching his.

"You make a very compelling argument," Mueller said; then, throwing away his hesitation, he kissed him, the prince smiling as he did. 

Mueller touched Olivier's face and neck as he kissed him, tongues swirling around each other in an equally matched, though messy, dance. Mueller peeked his eyes open slightly only to see Olivier was doing the same, bright purple eyes widening then narrowing with a smile as he looked at Mueller.

The brunette felt a rush of emotion in his chest as they looked at each other, and Olivier took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, eliciting a groan from Mueller, then unzipping Mueller's uniform jacket a few inches and running his hands underneath it, feeling his muscular shoulders and collarbones.

His hands were so warm against his bare skin, and Mueller followed his lead, slipping his fingers underneath the blonde's slightly unbuttoned shirt, grabbing at his shoulders as Olivier began kissing down his neck again, leaving a hot trail down to his zipper then pulling it down his chest slowly, unbuttoning his green undershirt along with it, and kissing the skin it uncovered. 

Mueller felt the heat pool below as the prince started to kiss down his abs, a little bit overwhelmed at how fast things were going but too intoxicated and too into this to really care anymore.

Olivier's kisses reached his waistband, his belt (which was swiftly unbuckled) and the end of the jacket's zipper, revealing a bulge in Mueller's now-too-tight pants. His eyes caught on it, the brunette blushing furiously as Olivier looked but didn't touch, then he looked back up over Mueller's partially exposed torso and up at his face with a breathless look.

"You want me," the prince said with a hint of amazement in his voice, running his hands under the ends of Mueller's shirts and up the sides of his waist, making him shiver and lean into the touch.

"Well, yes," Mueller mumbled awkwardly.

Olivier started laughing quietly as he kissed back up Mueller's torso, vibrations tickling his skin. "You actually want me," he repeated, sliding Mueller's shirts wider apart and off of his shoulders, and admiring his bare, very muscular chest. "Oh, Mueller..."

The prince looked up into his eyes with longing, and the brunette couldn't help but do the same, touching his face and running a thumb gently across his lip. _So soft and beautiful,_ Mueller thought, and after a moment of tension he was brushing the prince's hair to the side and kissing his neck hard, shrugging off his own sleeves then letting his hands wander down to clumsily unbutton Olivert's shirt from the top, sliding it off of his shoulders as he did.

Without restraint he found himself kissing down the prince's neck and shoulders, peppering him with little bites as he did, and Olivier moaned and leaned into him, stumbling forward as the last button was undone and falling into Mueller's lap.

 _Oh Aidios this has to be a dream_ , Mueller thought as he looked up at the shirtless, breathless prince, sitting in his lap with legs around his hips as he ran his hands over Mueller's bare torso, his own clothed arousal pressed into his, hot and very much _there_.

Mueller found his hands moving down the prince's bare back, slender curves filled in with tight, lean muscle, and falling to his hips, barely restraining himself. Olivier groaned softly as he did so, kissing and licking at his shoulders, then slowly ground himself down against Mueller.

The feeling of Olivier moving against him was just too much, a shuddering relief giving way to desire burning hot and taking control, and Mueller ground up into him roughly with a loud groan, grabbing his hips tightly as he did.

Olivier moaned against Mueller's now moist skin, grinding back down as the brunette bit at his neck. "We're drunk," he said this time, clinging to Mueller and groping at his muscular chest.

"I don't care," Mueller responded desperately through heavy breaths, continuing to grind. 

"Good," Olivier said, biting his lip and playing with Mueller's nipples as he thrusted down against him. Groaning at this, Mueller brought his hands lower to squeeze at his backside, eliciting a sound of delighted and needy surprise from the prince.

In Mueller's hurried haze of intoxication and lust he found himself sucking and kissing so hard at the prince's neck, trying deliberately to leave marks, wanting and needing to prove somehow that this was real, that Olivier was _his_ \--

It was all so much so fast and now Olivier was fumbling with Mueller's zipper, reaching a hand into his underwear and -- with a gasp from the brunette -- pulling his very generous erection free from its constraints, staring at it with wide eyes, looking from it to Mueller's face then back again. Mueller was used to this kind of reaction, but seeing it on the prince's face was something else entirely.

"Amazing," Olivier murmured, starting to pump him, running a thumb over the very moist head and coating the rest in the sticky liquid in long, teasing strokes. "You were hiding something like _this_?"

Mueller moaned, thrusting up into Olivier's hand, overwhelmed at the direct contact. Even though he was drunk he knew exactly where to touch and how much pressure to use, and Mueller was so painfully hard he knew it wouldn't be much longer --

He cupped the hard bulge in the prince's pants, and Olivier whined, ceasing his motions for long enough for Mueller to undo his trousers and take it out.

The prince was just as hard as he was, and he moaned as Mueller gave him an exploratory stroke, just looking at his rigid length and feeling its heat and weight in his hand. It was a bit larger than most Mueller had been with, though of course it had nothing on his own size-wise. As far as dicks go it was actually kind of pretty, he found himself thinking for just a split second before the prince began thrusting into his hand impatiently, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Then they were on each other, mouths crashing together, stroking each other faster and faster, free hands groping at each other's bodies, thrusting into each others' grip -- _fuck,_ all this was was a drunken, rushed handjob but Mueller found himself totally lost in it, kissing Olivier with desperate need and bucking up into his hand.

 _"Yes,"_ Olivier moaned, Mueller's lips at his neck now as both of them started to reach their limits. "Mueller, you're all I need, I'm so close--"

The words fell out nearly incoherently but they were enough to send Mueller over the edge, holding Olivier tightly against him as he came all over his own stomach, Olivier continuing to stroke him while he was coming. Then with an enraptured _"Oh,"_ from the prince, he followed shortly after, Mueller watching, exhausted but still eagerly pumping him, as Olivier's eyes rolled back and fluttered shut as he came with a long sound of pleasure, chin falling onto Mueller's shoulder.

They lay there catching their breath for a few moments, Olivier slumped over Mueller, sitting on his thighs. The orgasm was a little bit sobering for Mueller but he was now too tired to really think about what had just happened, and just let himself be there, contented and sleepy, slowly kissing the prince's shoulder, coaxing a happy sound out of him.

Olivier slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked down at Mueller, a hazy, complicated smile on his face. A sudden tear fell down one cheek and Mueller reached up without even thinking about it, wiping it away with his thumb, then pulling the prince down to him, kissing his cheek.

Olivier shook his head. "I'm sorry, I don't know why--" Mueller kissed his cheek again, and the prince let out a breath, stilling.

"It's okay," Mueller reassured in a hushed voice, "Stay here with me."

The prince nodded, smiling with wet eyes, looking a bit uneasy still but hopeful.

They quickly cleaned themselves off with tissues from the nearby table, then Mueller rolled onto his side and brought the prince down next to him, kissing his forehead. "Stay with me, Olivier," he repeated, mumbling with drowsiness, circling his arms around the prince's back and waist, holding him close.

"Anything for you, my love," Olivier breathed out with a sigh, relaxing into Mueller's chest, hands warm and comfortable against his bare skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a multi-chapter fic! Just in case you were wondering about the ending...
> 
> I wrote the first half of this while working on The Prince Is Missing. It was originally going to be platonic, or at least only one-sided, and definitely not smut but eheheh... There goes that idea.
> 
> As always, if you enjoyed this, please let me know with a comment and/or kudos! Knowing people are out there reading my fics keeps me writing (and posting) them. ❤️


	2. Hangover Remedies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter references "Drunken Reverie", the first fic in this series, so if you haven't read that yet, I fully recommend you do. It is totally readable without it, but I think overall this fic is just better in general in the context of the series.

Mueller awoke alone to a pounding headache and an empty room. Why, exactly, was he lying shirtless on the couch in Prince Olivert's quarters again? His head throbbed, and as he rose to his feet he realized his bladder was very, very full. He grabbed his shirt and jacket off the floor and slipped them on, stepping into his boots. He briefly considered using the prince's personal attached bathroom but, seeing the light under the door and hearing the sound of rushing water, he made his way down the hall to the nearest private restroom.

Halfway through relieving himself and vaguely puzzling over what happened last night through his headache, it all came back to him. He'd been so worried about Olivier, somehow gotten talked into getting incredibly drunk in several cascading moments of weakness, and then...

He flushed, zipped up his pants and just braced himself against the wall for a moment, letting his head hang down and stare blankly at the urinal drain.

The prince had started it. He had, hadn't he? A couple of the details were fuzzy but he could practically feel Olivier's lips and tongue and hands on his body, and how the prince felt in his arms. He felt a bit dizzy at the thought, though his hangover might be partly to blame. But what they had done together, how Olivier had looked at him with longing and desire, the way he responded to his touch was very clearly burned into memory.

_"You actually want me..."_

The sudden recollection made him bolt upright, holding his breath. The prince had seemed so completely earnest. Did this mean he actually wanted _him_?

His heart pounded and his head with it, and Mueller made his way to the sink, washed his hands quickly, then splashed cold water on his face. _Water._ Why hadn't he remembered to drink any water? He cupped his palms together and drank handful after handful of water, feeling a little bit of life returning to him with each gulp.

Head still throbbing but a little bit duller now, he just stood there, staring at his reflection. He looked pretty hungover, alright. Messy hair sticking up in odd places, slight creases underneath his reddened eyes, lips that had... Kissed Olivier. A lot.

Despite all the panic bells ringing loudly in his head, he found himself bringing a finger to his mouth and wearing a small grin.

He should probably check on the prince. Later, perhaps, after he got out of the shower. He knew he should, but the thought was nerve-wracking. Did Olivier actually have serious feelings for him? Or, drunk and emotional, had this just been a physical way to handle stress? It had certainly felt like far more than a simple casual drunken hookup to Mueller, but the prospect of finding out for sure still made him very anxious. He couldn't help but feel a little silly; here was a responsible, accomplished thirty-year-old man acting like some dumb hormonal teenager...

His stomach lurched - oh, no, that was definitely the alcohol. Coming... back up. Well, this was going to be a long morning.

\---

After puking his guts out in the toilet, drinking a bunch more water, hastily throwing a Curia on himself (it didn't help a whole lot, and healing arts were definitely not his forte, but it couldn't hurt), taking a shower (hot, then cold), eating some breakfast and popping a painkiller or two, Mueller was starting to feel like some semblance of normal. Thankfully the crew of the Courageous was very small right now, so he only really had to interact with the ship's chef, who seemed to notice something was a bit off with Mueller but had the courtesy (or perhaps just the respect for his rank) not to ask.

Aidios, he hadn't been that drunk since that one time with Neithardt shortly after his last promotion. He was definitely getting too old for this. But now that his head was mostly clear and he was sitting in his quarters, he couldn't help wondering if Olivier was handling his own hangover okay.

What was he going to say to the prince? Would he even remember everything? He was more drunk than Mueller, he thought, but maybe not? He groaned, pushing himself up out of his chair, and gathering a pill bottle, a sealed bottle of water and the second omelette with hashbrowns he'd gotten with the excuse that he had been extra hungry this morning, and put them all onto a tray. There was no point in prolonging the inevitable. Might as well make sure Olivert had what he needed.

He made his way down the hall, and stopped at the prince's door. Taking a deep breath and straightening his shoulders, he knocked on the door and waited.

Silence.

He grimaced, mind immediately and unwisely jumping to the worst conclusions. He could be too sick to come to the door, or perhaps he was ignoring him, or --

"Mueller?" Came Olivier's voice from down the hallway. Mueller turned, watching the prince stride quickly across the hall to him. He was dressed - well, mostly - in his trousers, boots, and a fresh shirt and vest, his coat and cravat likely left in his room. His hair was tied back neatly. To anyone else it would easily seem as if he was his ordinary cheerful self and had not just been on a three day bender, but Mueller could see the fatigue that showed through even in his carefully calculated posture, and the little creases under his eyes.

"You look like hell," Mueller said, relaxing just a little bit. "I'm surprised you're still standing."

Olivier sighed, dropping his shoulders. "That obvious, huh? You know me too well." He tapped the security panel and entered his room, Mueller following, the door shutting behind them.

Mueller couldn't help but eye the couch for a second and tried to remain calm and natural. Olivier walked ahead of him towards the center of the room, then turned to face him, looking over the tray of food, water and pain pills he held in his hands.

"Is this... for me?"

"No, it's for me and I brought it to your room while hung over for absolutely no reason. Yes it's for you," Mueller said, rolling his eyes and pushing the tray out towards Olivert, who took it automatically, staring at it. "I guess if you've already left your room, you're feeling better than I'd thought."

"I... I'm touched," Olivier said, looking at the plate full of breakfast. He honestly _did_ look touched, and was clearly avoiding meeting Mueller's gaze. Mueller swallowed.

"...And hungry, I hope," he said somewhat awkwardly.

"Mueller, I threw up five times. I just went to the deck to get some air. I'm absolutely starving. Thank you," he said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a crooked smile, then walking to the dining table at the left side of the room and sitting down, uncapping the water bottle and gulping most of it down.

"Five times..." Mueller groaned, sitting down across the room in one of the armchairs, the one Olivier usually used, eyeing his sword which was still propped up against the nearby table. He relaxed into the plush chair, still feeling the hangover a fair bit even after all his treatment. "How much did you even drink last night?"

Olivier sighed. "I lost track shortly after I finished the first bottle of wine. I really don't want to know." He shook his head, picking up his fork. "What about you?"

"Too much," the brunette replied, shaking his head. The whiskey bottle on the nearby table looked so much more full than he felt like it should be, and he groaned. "I don't feel so great either."

"I'd be worried if you did," Olivier said with a somewhat nervous laugh, then put a forkful of potatoes into his mouth. He swallowed, then turned towards Mueller. "Hey, this is cold!"

"It's the best I could do," Mueller replied, not noticing the prince's eyes on him, slumping back into the chair further. Yes, these really were built for royalty...

"Well, I certainly wouldn't dream of refusing your kindness." Olivert smiled slightly, turned back to his food and kept eating. 

Mueller alternated between closing his eyes and staring up at the ceiling as the prince ate, the occasional sound of metal hitting ceramic the only noise in the too-quiet room. This was... Difficult. It was obvious that the both of them were skirting around the subject. At the same time, maybe it would be better to leave it until later, when they were both feeling a bit better... At the very least, until the prince had finished eating. So he sat and waited, for what felt like an eternity, until Olivier had cleared his plate and swallowed a couple of pills.

But the prince started to talk as soon as Mueller had sat up straight and opened his mouth to speak. "How much of last night do you remember?" He asked tentatively, pushing the tray across the table.

Mueller let out a silent breath, then took another. What use was there in mincing words? "Everything," he answered.

"...Everything?" Olivier asked with a hint of anxiety, glancing over his shoulder at Mueller, who was looking up at the ceiling.

"...Yeah," He replied. "Do you..."

"Yes," The blonde admitted, and Mueller glanced over at him this time. He had his thumb at his lip and looked uncharacteristically nervous. "The rest of the day is a bit of a blur, but..."

"We don't have to talk about this right now, you know," Mueller said, pushing himself up out of the chair. "We're both still hung over, and -"

"No," Olivier asserted, shaking his head, then hesitated. "Well... I suppose that would probably be wise, but as I'm sure you can see, I'm not exactly doing 'wise' very well lately."

"That makes two of us," Mueller admitted, then walked over to the dining table and pulled out the chair across from Olivier, sitting down. "It's alright. We can talk now."

The blonde glanced up at him with moderate surprise, meeting his gaze briefly, then looked down at his folded hands.

He wasn't playing this off as a joke. He was taking this very seriously, either just because their friendship was important to him, or maybe... Mueller felt a surge of courage. Part of him knew it was a stupid risk to take, but he couldn't hold it in anymore, not after last night.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said quietly. "Unless you want me to. Last night doesn't change that."

Olivert looked up at him again, briefly searching his face with wide eyes, then slumping his shoulders a little and looking down at his hands again. "I got you drunk-"

"I got myself drunk," Mueller corrected. "Don't blame yourself for that. That was my choice."

"Mueller, this _is_ my fault," Olivier insisted, looking pained. "I just kept pushing you. I started it, I... I _kissed_ you, and you were so drunk that-"

"So drunk that I just let you do what you wanted with me?" The brunette sighed, leaning his elbows on the table and covering his face with one hand. "Aidios, Olivier, did you ever consider that maybe I went along with everything because I wanted to?"

The silence was deafening. Mueller's hand was nearly played now, and he felt uncomfortably vulnerable.

The prince looked up at him slowly. "Mueller," he said carefully, "Do you really mean that?"

Mueller peeked through his fingers, face flushed. He couldn't quite see Olivier's whole face without lifting his head, but he could see that his mouth was open with surprise. "Yes," he groaned. "Would I have even come here this morning otherwise?"

"I'm an idiot," Olivert said, voice full of emotion, and Mueller lifted his head up to look at him. He was looking down, eyes brimming with tears, a smile he was trying to repress spreading across his face. Mueller's heart ached, beating faster.

"That's nothing new," Mueller said, reaching across the table, taking his hand in one of his own, pressing his fingers gently into his palm. "You always have been."

"You're so romantic," Olivier laughed, tears falling now, squeezing Mueller's fingers.

Mueller had rarely ever seen Olivier cry before, at least not as a grown man, and not without him trying his hardest to hide it. Before last night, it had been years. Protective feelings welled up inside of him, and he found himself pushing the tray between them aside and leaning over the table, wiping away the prince's tears with one hand, other hand still clutching his. Olivier breathed in, lips parting as he stared at him, obviously moved by the gesture, then Mueller's lips were gently on his. Mueller kissed him slowly, softly, no tongue, and Olivier followed his lead, leaning in and touching Mueller's arm with his free hand. It was tender and intimate, his heart aching with happiness, and as the prince kissed him back with the same tenderness Mueller nearly felt like crying himself.

Then they parted, staring at each other, cheeks flushed. Olivier looked tired, and lovestruck, and beautiful, and Mueller felt himself suddenly filling with inner strength.

"I am _not_ going to let the Chancellor win," Mueller began, clenching his fist against the table, the words just coming out in a fire of defiance. "I won't let you give up, either. I will stay with you, and fight with you, to the very end."

" _Mueller_ -" Olivert managed to say, voice thick with overwhelmed emotion. 

"I love you," he said, gripping the prince's shoulder and looking him in the eyes with gentleness and determination, his last card finally played. It was freeing, and terrifying, and felt right, all at the same time. After all of these years, he just couldn't hide it any longer, consequences be damned.

Olivier's eyes shined back up into his, wide and bright and brimming with tears again, and then with a furrowed brow he closed them and began to sob, bowing his head, wet trails streaming down his cheeks and splattering onto the tabletop. "Mueller," he choked out again, falling to his elbows on the table.

Mueller rose to his feet and brought his chair right next to him, huddling close and draping an arm across the prince's shoulders. Olivert shuddered into the touch, then threw himself into Mueller's arms, fists clenched against his chest, gripping his uniform jacket.

"I'm sorry," he said through his tears, "I'm so sorry."

Mueller let out a breath. "Well that's not exactly how I'd hoped that would go over," he muttered, holding the shaking prince close.

"No," the prince said firmly, looking up at him with a look of longing and apology. "That's not-"

"I know," Mueller replied, his expression softening. "Just let it out," he said, stroking the back of Olivert's head. 

"I don't deserve you," the prince sobbed.

Mueller snorted. "Too bad."

Olivier smiled weakly against Mueller's shoulder, still crying, but relaxing slightly. "I failed," he began. "Everything I've been doing these past two and a half years, it's gone." His grip tightened on Mueller's jacket. "I don't want to lose this ship, Mueller," he said desperately. 

"I know," the brunette replied, "neither do I."

"I don't want this country to see any more war than it already has," he continued, tears soaking into Mueller's shirt. "People are suffering so much, even just kids like Rean Schwarzer, and it feels like it's my fault. I put them in that situation, I brought them together and now there's nothing I can do. And _Cedric_ ," his voice cracked on the name and he just cried, unable to find further words.

"I know," Mueller repeated, voice full of real understanding.

"He's my little brother. You understand. I should have been there for him, I should have protected him... All those horrible things he went through... And now..." he shook, pressing his forehead against Mueller's collarbone. "Now I don't know if he'll ever fully recover. Some big brother I am, right?"

Mueller just held him there firmly, supporting his weight. "You did what you could."

"It wasn't enough," Olivier cried, voice weak and full of self-loathing.

"I know. If it were Kurt, I would feel the same way," Mueller admitted quietly, fingers tightening around the back of the prince's vest.

Olivert nodded, sniffling and continuing to cry as Mueller held him, gradually getting quieter, body slowly stilling and relaxing into his arms.

Finally, after minutes had passed, Olivier sat up, Mueller releasing him as he did so.

"I feel like such a child," Olivier said with a weak laugh, wiping his eyes dry. He looked at Mueller, with a sort of smile overwhelmed with complicated emotion. "You were always there for me then, too," he added more quietly in a tone of gratitude.

"Why wouldn't I have been? No one can carry burdens as heavy as yours alone," Mueller reassured him with a hand on his shoulder.

The prince took a breath and released it, then brought his hand up to his shoulder to touch Mueller's fingers. "You're right," he said quietly, looking up and meeting his bodyguard's gaze. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, but then he smiled with resolve, and the concern on Mueller's face softened. He broke eye contact as he spoke, "But this is not how this country's defender of love and peace should act! I can't sit idly by and feel sorry for myself when there are people counting on me. I can't let your beautiful show of devotion go to waste," he finished, taking Mueller's hand in his and bringing it to his lips, slowly pressing a kiss to his knuckles and looking into his eyes as he did so. 

Mueller flushed and held his breath, overwhelmed both by the prince doing such a thing to him and by the intensity of their locked gaze.

"I can't believe I ruined your big love confession," Olivert sighed, looking seriously distressed over this, holding his hand normally now and letting it hang between them. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Please," Mueller said on an exhale, doing a great job of hiding it up til now but still anxiously waiting on a reply.

The prince stood in response, still holding Mueller's hand until he stood with him, only a few inches between them as they faced each other. He slowly and lightly brought his fingertips up Mueller's chest, then rested his hands on his shoulders, looking up at him.

"I love you too," he said simply, no long preamble and no theatrical display, just looking into Mueller's eyes with sincerity, his eyes full of hope and affection.

Mueller's heart pounded, as if this was somehow the beginning all over again, and he brought a hand to the prince's waist and another to his neck, bending towards him. Olivert leaned in as well, his hands meeting behind Mueller's neck as they both drew closer and finally kissed, Mueller pressing his lips firmly to his, marveling again at the heat and softness against his mouth before Olivier began kissing him more passionately, darting his tongue into Mueller's mouth.

Mueller groaned softly, opening his mouth further and letting the prince in. The kiss was deep and passionate but not rushed, and as they kissed slowly and deeply, mouths parting briefly but coming back together again, then again, in long, teasing tastes, Mueller cracked his eyes open to look at Olivier. His eyes were closed, face flushed, brows knit upwards and together, and he looked so completely into the kiss, into _him_ , Mueller couldn't help but grip him tighter, running his hand around to the back of the prince's head and up through the hair above his ponytail, circling his left arm around Olivier's back to the other side of his waist, holding him close.

Olivert shuddered at the touch, eyes fluttering open as their lips briefly parted. Their eyes met, both filled with amazement and mutual desire, and the prince smiled as he threaded his fingers up through Mueller's hair.

"Funny," he remarked, "I don't feel nearly as hungover anymore."

The corners of Mueller's mouth turned up at this. "Me neither," he agreed, and Olivier kissed him again, cupping Mueller's face in his hands, humming with satisfaction against his lips before entering his mouth again, then breaking the kiss with a longing sigh.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," Olivert said, running his hands down Mueller's neck and back onto his shoulders.

"Me too," Mueller said, looking down at him and bringing his hand down to the side of his neck, feeling his warm, soft skin underneath his fingers.

Olivier looked up at him with surprise, taking a small step back. "I had no idea..."

"That was kind of the point," he sighed, closing his eyes briefly, hands falling to his sides.

"But I tried so hard to make it obvious I would freely welcome you into my loving embrace!" Olivert said, sighing dramatically, hand against his own chest.

"That's... part of the problem," Mueller explained, placing a hand on his hip, frowning slightly.

"Oh? You would rather I had played hard to get?" He said coyly, raising his eyebrows in a playful smirk.

"No," Mueller said flatly.

"Then..." he trailed off, turning his head to the side and glancing downwards in thought, curling a finger or two into the opening of his shirt, then glancing up at Mueller with only his eyes as he spoke, expression nearly blank but horribly seductive. "...You wanted me all for yourself?"

Mueller froze, feeling his face color. _Yes, that was it exactly._ Had the prince always been so... Alluring? It was one thing to be playfully teased or complimented, he was all too used to that, but something this direct, Olivert knowing full well they both had such strong feelings for each other, completely overwhelmed him.

"Your expression speaks volumes," the prince teased with a knowing smile.

 _"Olivier,"_ Mueller complained, both frustrated and uncomfortably aroused.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," Olivier said, stepping closer, putting a hand at Mueller's waist and another on his chest, then whispering into his ear, "I only truly want _you_."

Olivier's expression was completely serious now, not a hint of playfulness. Despite the bold gesture he looked vulnerable as he looked up into his eyes, waiting for confirmation that Mueller felt the same. He seriously wanted Mueller. _Only_ Mueller. Mueller found himself entirely overcome with disbelieving happiness, and so many years of pent-up longing and desire. Unable to restrain himself, he grabbed the back of his head, pulled him in and kissed him hard, circling his arm back around him again and pulling him nearly flush against his body as he brought his tongue into his mouth. Olivert responded with a satisfied whimper, wrapping his arms tightly around Mueller's back, kissing him back, both of them lost in the slow, passionate kiss for a few long moments until they finally broke for air.

Mueller squeezed him tightly, burying his head in the prince's shoulder, head spinning and heart pounding from the kiss, from everything both physical and not about being so close to Olivier in this way. "You idiot, if you were really serious about me this whole time, you should have said something."

"I tried," Olivier sighed, "I was just... scared," he admitted, then paused. "...The one time I really came out with it, it didn't exactly go well. I didn't want to make the same mistake again..."

Mueller faltered, trying to understand what Olivier was referring to. He hadn't ever said anything in a serious way, had he--

Oh.

_Oh._

That night, over ten years ago now, when they were both still teenagers, Olivier had been completely drunk and told Mueller he loved him, and kissed him... Mueller had been certain it had nearly all been the wine driving him to push his jokes too far, and Olivert himself had admitted as much the next morning... At the time, Mueller didn't even understand he was attracted to men, and he hadn't yet developed romantic feelings for the younger prince, so it had not particularly been a good experience for either of them, and they'd agreed to put it out of mind, never speaking of it again... well, until now.

Mueller's eyes widened at the weight of the realization.

Had Olivier really been in love with him for _all that time_? 

"As you can see, I failed at that terribly," the blonde continued with a soft laugh. "I did it all over again."

"Olivier, I..." It was overwhelming to think about. All those countless times the prince had casually flirted with him, all those quiet comfortable moments they'd shared together in the past few years, all those endearments of "my dearest Mueller" or "my love"... Had they all meant something more? The tension he'd felt between them, it wasn't just his imagination? 

How could he not have seen it?

His grip on Olivert loosened, enough to take a half step backwards, still with his arms around him but staring at his face in disbelief.

"...All this time?" he asked, unable to form any other words. 

"Yes," Olivier replied, with weight and sincerity. Mueller must have been making quite an expression, because the prince let out a breath, bowing his head slightly. "I gave up and moved on, of course. Many times. It's not as if I've just been suffering in silence for over a decade."

Mueller couldn't quite find the words to say. Instead he reached down and touched the prince's face, looking at him with a complicated expression of regret and longing. "I'm sorry," he said finally, sighing. "It took me a bit longer to figure it out."

Olivier smiled at the touch, the kind of smile that bordered on the verge of tears of joy, reaching up and touching the hand that was on his face.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter now," he said. "I'm just so glad it wasn't all in my head."

"Me too," Mueller agreed emphatically, then kissed him again. Despite the intense rush of feelings still coursing through him, the kiss was gentle and loving. He entered the prince's mouth just long enough to taste him, both hands threading into his hair. Olivier made a soft pleasurable sound at this, then broke the kiss for a brief moment only to kiss Mueller harder, humming against his lips before deepening the kiss.

Whatever the prince did with his tongue made him absolutely weak in the knees. His pulse sped up, his thoughts becoming much less coherent as Olivier kissed him with passion, spinning spirals around his tongue and holding the back of his head, fingers in his hair. He shivered, feeling a steadily increasing sense of need, and finally it was too much - he took over the kiss with force, pressing his lips hard against his, holding the prince tightly and dipping him slightly backwards, nipping at his lower lip before pushing his tongue into the prince's mouth, desperate to be closer to him. Olivier gave in, warm and pliable in his arms, sucking on his tongue, thumbs at his cheekbones.

"I love you Mueller," the prince said with an aching sigh, just for the sheer pleasure of saying it, melting into the embrace as the brunette began kissing down his jawline. The words were laced with desire now and pierced straight through him, and Mueller felt his heart could burst even as baser impulses fought for attention.

"I love you," Mueller replied, more than a little desperately, biting and kissing at the small bit of exposed neck above Olivier's collar.

The prince squeezed at his back, tilting his head back a little, watching him with a hazy smile. "Mmm," he moaned, closing his eyes, getting carried away in the sensation.

Neither of them were drunk this time and without the alcohol blurring his senses, hangover remedies having done their job, Mueller took in everything in clear detail; the feel of Olivier's soft skin underneath his lips, the pounding of his pulse matching his own, the warmth and weight of his body tightly against his. This was definitely real and felt so intense, even though he was just standing there kissing his neck, and he found himself wondering what it would be like to undress him and properly get a chance to touch his whole body --

"Mueller?" Olivier asked, and Mueller became aware that he was just burying his face in his neck, fingering the small buckle at the prince's back that kept his vest cinched in at the waist, breathing heavily and forcing himself to stay still.

Mueller slowly lifted his head to look at him, faces only a couple inches apart, expression desirous and conflicted as he tried to decide whether it was really proper to physically take this further. Regardless of what they both felt and what they had already done while drunk, Olivert was an Imperial prince and he was merely a soldier - a Vander and a noble, yes, but far below even an illegitimate prince's station - tasked with his protection. Mueller knew the prince himself wouldn't care about such things, but it was his job to mitigate risks, to make sure he didn't do anything stupid that could compromise his royal standing. The prince's past flings were one thing, but if it were discovered that the two of them were in a secret relationship --

Olivert looked at him, holding his breath at the intense, complicated expression on Mueller's face. "What is it, my love," he said with a look of concern, face flushed, then his eyes lidded in a smirk as he continued. "Are you so overcome with your desire for me that you cannot speak?"

"Yes," Mueller said without thinking, and Olivert's eyebrows shot up, a look of lustful delight washing over his face. "I mean, no, that isn't it," he said with an attempt at a scowl.

"But that's some of it?" The prince persisted eagerly, running his hand up Mueller's side, a very distracting sensation.

"I just don't want to cause... trouble," Mueller said, hesitating, breaking eye contact.

"I like trouble," Olivier replied, smiling.

Mueller rolled his eyes. "You _are_ trouble. You are also supposed to be a prince," he added with a grimace.

"Oh? Do you need my supposed permission then? Suddenly now, after all of these years of so brazenly manhandling me and complaining about my behavior?"

Mueller opened his mouth, but before he could speak Olivier covered it with his own, kissing him deeply, grabbing his head in his slender hands. It was so sudden and surprisingly forceful that Mueller was completely caught off guard, stepping back reflexively, but the prince stepped forward with him, not breaking the kiss, tongue invading his mouth and making his head spin. By the time Olivier released him, he was desperate for air and stood there nearly panting, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

"I want all the trouble you can give me," Olivier said, leaning in to kiss him again, lips barely grazing Mueller's, then pulled away at the last second. "You'll only be returning the favor, after all."

Mueller stood there stunned for a moment, absolutely dumbfounded. He looked at Olivert, who was glancing up at him with a red face and a serious expression as he wiped his lips with his thumb, watching the brunette to see how he would react. The moment he gathered his wits about him again Mueller rushed to him, grabbing the prince by the shoulders, who looked up at him with delighted anticipation. 

"Alright," he said, so close to Olivier their noses touched, his voice a low rumble as he spoke with a smirk, "I'll give you all the trouble you can handle."

The prince was clearly elated, moaning a "Yes, _please_ ," as Mueller kissed and bit at the other side of his neck, placing his hands on the blonde's stomach and sliding them up his torso, feeling his firm, lean chest through the fine clothing.

Mueller nipped at Olivert's earlobe, then nibbled his way up the edge of his ear, making him shiver and make a pleasurable sound. Yes, these nice clothes need to come off _now_ , he thought, hooking his fingers into the neck of the prince's vest, making eye contact with him for a brief moment before kissing him possessively, Olivert eagerly greeting his tongue with his own, drawing him in closer and only increasing his sense of urgency.

"Olivier," he breathed as he broke for air, then was interrupted by a kiss from the prince, bold and invasive like the last one, eyes wide open and shining dangerously. Mueller gave in for only a moment, then grabbed the prince's head, dominating the kiss, not breaking eye contact for a moment.

When they finally broke the kiss it was only to alternate leaving kisses at each other's jaws and throats, back and forth until neither of them could stand it and Mueller bent down suddenly and hooked an arm around the back of Olivert's knees, literally sweeping him off of his feet and scooping him into his arms, supporting his back with his other arm.

The prince was stunned and delighted, and threw his arms around Mueller's neck, pulling himself up. "Oh, my dear Mueller, I love it when you play rough with me," he teased, planting a kiss and a playful nibble at his jaw. "So bold, such virile strength-"

"Oh shut up," Mueller grumbled, then kissed him again, nipping at his lower lip before carrying him off behind a partition to his bed and tossing him gently backwards onto it, climbing up on top of him, knees to the sides of his thighs and hands by his head, boxing him in and looking down at him.

Olivier looked up at him with a debaucherous grin, chest rising and falling quickly, arms to the sides of his head, and he tilted his head back, an open invitation to continue whatever Mueller had in mind. "I've always wanted to have you in my bed," he teased, "I just never imagined you'd be the one to bring me here."

"I'd like to see you try to carry me anywhere," Mueller said, sitting up and wasting no time in unfastening all of the little golden chains at the front of the prince's vest, then unzipping it and running his hands over Olivier's silk shirt. The fabric was soft and warm with the heat of his skin, and he began to unbutton it from the bottom, eyes following the newly exposed skin from navel to sternum to collarbone.

"Take it off," said the brunette, running his fingertips over the few inches wide swath of hot, pale skin, looking at the prince with half lidded eyes and planting a possessive, biting kiss on his chest, then another at his throat.

"Oooh," Olivert cooed, eyelids fluttering as his body moved with the touch. "Usually you're so desperate for me to keep everything on," he said, sitting up and quickly taking off the rest of his shirt and vest.

Mueller looked up his torso hungrily. The prince was in very good shape to stay maneuverable in combat and, knowing Olivier, also situations like this one - he had a somewhat slender frame but a respectably toned stomach and chest, wide shoulders and slightly muscled arms all offset by soft curves with very little body hair. The look was classic and masculine while subtle and beautiful, and was quite a refreshing change from all of the more beefy types he usually found himself in bed with. "There's an appropriate time for everything," Mueller said distractedly, eyes still wandering.

The prince watched Mueller look at him for a few more moments with an appreciative, affectionate smile, just soaking in the much needed attention. "You like what you see?" he asked finally, voice sounding slightly surprised, but very pleasantly so.

"Yes," Mueller nodded, looking up his torso and reaching out to run a hand up his upper stomach and onto his chest. His skin was warm and so soft, and he shuddered at Mueller's touch, but then, obviously exercising some amount of self-control, he lifted the brunette's hand off of him, placing a passionate kiss at his fingertips that made his pulse quicken before releasing it.

Olivier reached out and tugged on the zipper at his collar, pulling it down a couple of inches. "I want to see you too," he said, leaning in, lips grazing Mueller's chin. "As much as I love your gorgeous eyes and strong hands on me, that's not _all_ of yours I want to feel on me..." His lips curled in a sly, absolutely dirty smile. Mueller's face went hot along with the rest of him, and he immediately sat up and started undressing.

Mueller was an extremely muscular man, pale skin and dark hair with the bulky, but natural build of someone who did not work out for show but for pure, raw function. His now bare forearms were massive from wielding such a heavy sword his whole life, usually obscured well by his stiff uniform, and ended in powerful-looking hands. He had a barrel chest that led to a slim waist, and his entire torso was incredibly well defined with sinuous muscle. Soft-looking, masculine dark hair curled at the center of his chest, and a thin trail of hairs lead down from his navel into his pants. 

Olivert stared openly at the now shirtless man before him for good reason. "Oh, Aidios," he found himself saying, falling backwards onto the bed, Mueller following, then pressing his lips right above his navel unexpectedly, making Olivier shudder.

"My love," the prince said with a tone of surprise and desire, gazing up at Mueller completely overwhelmed, "You are incredible - _ah_ ," he moaned as Mueller began to slowly kiss up his torso, lips following his hands as they passionately yet reverently traced their way up his sides and stomach. "You are a vision, a-" he cut off with a whimper as Mueller licked the center of his abs, then continued upwards, Olivier biting his lip, "a work of art, a muse that makes poets weep and angels sing- _oh_ ," the prince ceased his verbal praises, reduced to making little moans as the brunette flicked his tongue over his pink nipple and began to suck at it in a way that made him tremble. Clearly, Mueller knew what he was doing, much to Olivert's honest surprise and great pleasure.

Mueller reveled in the taste of the prince's skin, taking a secret pride in his long stream of embarrassing compliments but equally relieved he was able to cut them off with his tongue. He circled his tongue around Olivier's nipple, then sucked, then grazed his teeth against it in a gentle bite, prompting soft, erotic sounds of pleasure from him.

Mueller brought his eyes up to look at the prince, who was watching him with a completely red face, and... Now that he looked at him closely, he noticed a cluster of dark hickeys to one side of his neck, previously obscured by clothing, and he released the nipple, looking down at him.

Olivert smiled as he realized what the brunette's eyes were catching on, and brought a hand to his neck, lightly touching the marks. "Admiring your handiwork?" he asked in a teasing voice. "What a very exciting present you left me," he continued, licking his lip, and Mueller's face flushed, desire building at seeing how completely gratified Olivert was at him having left such selfish marks in his drunken desperation.

"I can give you more," Mueller said in a low, breathy voice, sliding his hand down over the blonde's stomach, waistband and then onto the hot bulge in his white trousers, glancing down at it quickly before giving it a light squeeze. The prince was very hard, much to Mueller's delight, and he circled his hips into the touch, lying with his hands helplessly at either side of his head, doing an excellent job at making a show of himself.

" _Please_ ," Olivert pleaded, and then Mueller was undoing his pants, sliding them down his legs until the prince could easily kick them off, revealing a clear outline in his... tight, silky black speedo with red roses on it.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Mueller snorted, eyeing them.

"I have _impeccable_ taste, Mueller; but if you don't like them, you can always take them off."

"It's very... You," he remarked, sliding his hand up over the fabric, making the prince squirm.

"Considering how much you are enjoying me, I'll take that as a compliment," Olivier retorted through slightly quickened breaths.

"I won't stop you," Mueller said, undoing his belt buckle and kicking off his own pants, tossing them off the bed with a certain carelessness that excited the prince, though not nearly as much as the view of Mueller on his knees above him, wearing nothing but tented black boxer shorts that did very little to conceal his apparent desire.

The prince looked at him with more of that raw admiration and lust, and Mueller felt very exposed for some reason. It was so weird to not be hiding any of this, to just openly be sharing himself like this with Olivier, who was just as serious about him as he was --

Mueller slowly ran his hands up the prince's legs, brushing against soft, nearly invisible hairs, and Olivert breathed heavily in response, gently bending his knees up and back as the brunette's hands moved higher, hips moving reflexively as Mueller's hands tentatively stroked up his inner thighs before moving back down again.

He looked up at the prince's face. He was breathing hard, cheeks pink, and returned his gaze with a look of breathless wonder, open mouth stretching at the corners into a smile as their eyes met. Mueller felt a surge of emotion at this, then pressed a kiss firmly against the soft skin above the inside of the prince's knee, hearing him make a soft sound as he did. 

"I love you, Olivier," he said with feeling, face hot, looking at him as he spoke. 

The prince smiled back at him with so much love, probably the sappiest expression Mueller had ever seen on a real person, and it was nearly painful to keep looking at him as he replied with passionate sincerity, "And I love you," reaching down to Mueller's face, fingertips brushing his cheek. 

Mueller let out a shuddering breath at the touch, closing his eyes and smiling against his leg. Heart racing, he began kissing up the inside of Olivier's thigh, leaving long, sucking kisses on his tender skin that were nearly certain to leave marks. The prince moaned as he did, shamelessly spreading his legs apart, giving Mueller more surface to cover. His skin was so incredibly soft underneath his lips - Mueller had never felt anything like it, only having been with rough, muscular military men with completely hard bodies - and he smelled subtly of vanilla, spice, and rose petals. It was obnoxious and intoxicating, and only made his kisses get hungrier and more impatient, and soon enough his lips met the edge of Olivier's underwear. There was no reason to hold back any longer and Mueller made a satisfied sound as he pressed his face against the prince's crotch, cupping his balls through the fabric in one hand and licking up the length of Olivier's hard cock, which was pressed up to the side against his hip in the confines of his very tight underwear.

"Mueller...!" Olivier cried out in surprise, pleasure and delight. The brunette locked eyes with him, and seeing his expression and his hand clutching the sheets, smirked up at him before looking back down and sucking and kissing at the tip of the prince's length through the silky fabric, coaxing moans from the prince's lips as his body tensed underneath him. He could taste the slight saltiness of precum leaking through and it made him want to tear the silly floral underwear off his body... 

Instead, he looked at the prince for confirmation as he pinched the top edge of the fabric. Olivert nodded, eyes wide and watching him with rapt attention as he pulled them down, the prince's erection curving up towards his stomach as it was freed. He pulled the underwear completely off Olivier's legs, casting them to the ground, and looked at him.

The drunken, nude prince serenading the sunrise with his lute from atop a high balcony was one man. _This_ man, despite being the same naked prince, was someone different entirely. Beautiful body flushed and marked as his in various places, this Prince Olivert looked at him with erotic anticipation, legs spread wide for him, showing him everything without reservation. He was so hard, already partially slick with moisture, and absolutely impossible to resist touching for more than a moment.

Despite his own arousal, Mueller felt an overwhelming desire to please Olivert, to make him feel good and ease his worries, and to become intimately acquainted with every bit of his body. The prince watched with wide eyes as Mueller licked up his length, swirling his tongue around the head, then closed his mouth around him.

\---

The soft, wet heat of the brunette's mouth around Olivier was nearly unbearable, and he let out a shuddering gasp as Mueller sank down.

It was _Mueller_ doing this. His eyes were closed, but his brows were knit together with emotion as he pleasured him, head bobbing up and down. He was a bit rough but far better at this than Olivier had ever expected, and he found himself closing his lips to muffle a cry of pleasure, and threading his fingers through the officer's hair.

"Mueller," he moaned, and Mueller looked up at him, eyes filled with a surprising amount of tenderness, but didn't stop, continuing to spiral his tongue around the tip before plunging down again -- heat and pleasure wracked the prince's body and, oh no, this was embarrassing, but just watching _Mueller_ of all people, the man he had loved for so, so long but couldn't have, do this to him with _that look_ on his face was sending him so close to the edge already. There was so much left he wanted to do with him but this was so incredibly good he just couldn't bring himself to resist --

"Oh Aidios, Mueller, you are amazing," Olivier gushed, voice shaky and legs trembling. "It's... It's too much, my love, I can't --" He threw his head back, unable to think straight, and Mueller kept his pace, reaching his free hand up to brush Olivier's cheek. The prince looked down at him and their eyes met -- it was all so intense, so intimate. Overwhelmed with pleasure and emotion, Olivier's fingers tensed around his head, free hand gripping the sheets, and his body shook as Mueller teased the tip of his cock with his tongue one more time before sucking him hard, lips curling tightly around him, still looking up into his eyes with a flushed, serious expression -- and that was it, it was all far too much. Olivier moaned, body arching and hips moving upwards on their own, blinding waves of pleasure hurtling through him as he came into Mueller's mouth, and just... kept coming, a good ten seconds longer than usual at least, watching Mueller in startled, overwhelmed surprise as he did, panting erratically.

Finally, he stopped, sinking back into the bed, shuddering a bit as Mueller slid his mouth off of him and licked up the last bit of him as he did. Mueller swallowed, idly licking his lips afterwards like it was no big deal, then grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his mouth off. _Aidios save me_ , Olivert thought, his heart skipping a beat as he watched this. How was Mueller secretly so... erotic? Had he always been like this, but Olivier just never knew? He felt his stomach tingle with excitement even in the deep relaxation of his afterglow. There was so much more he wanted to know about Mueller now, and his warm, hazy, love-addled mind swam with exciting things he wanted to try.

"Mueller," he swooned in a low tone with a deep, admiring sigh. "You... I... I'm speechless," he said very articulately, still catching his breath.

\---

Mueller looked at him, feeling a mixture of pride and stunned amazement. Usually when someone he was with came so fast it was a disappointment, but Mueller couldn't feel anything but impressed at his apparent effect on the prince. Had anyone he'd been with ever come so hard before? Olivier was lying there, blissful and spent, looking extraordinarily beautiful with his hair in disarray and gazing at him with overwhelming affection. Watching him come like _that_ , seeing him look at him like _this_... He felt a lot of things, not knowing how to express them all at once. The lingering complex taste of him in his mouth did not make this any easier.

"Do you usually..." he found himself asking, his curiosity the easiest thing to address.

"No," Olivier responded without letting him finish. "Not at all. Never that quickly... I'm kind of embarrassed," he said, bringing a hand to his face and looking a bit shy. "I suppose I should have known... It's you, after all." He smiled sheepishly at him, and Mueller found himself climbing over the prince and touching his face, then kissing him gently.

"I was _going_ to ask if there's usually quite so much," he said, grinning slightly despite himself. Then he stiffened, realizing something with a twinge of guilt. "...I probably shouldn't have kissed you just now. Uh... sorry."

Olivier laughed, eyes sparkling with amusement, then drew his hands up around the back of Mueller's head and neck and kissed him, slowly, pressing open Mueller's lips with his tongue and deepening the kiss. Mueller's breath quickened as he returned it, very quickly remembering his own arousal, and he groaned as Olivier ran his hand down his back and started to suck on his tongue, his head spinning.

\---

"My love," the prince panted, breaking for air. "You should _always_ kiss me." He paused to lick his lips with sensuous appreciation. "Tasting myself on you... what an utter privilege." 

Mueller stared, clearly unable to formulate a reply to that, but Olivert just smiled, looking smug, then sat up, pushing his shoulder gently. Mueller allowed the prince to guide him into moving over onto his back on the bed, and Olivert straddled him, looking down his body. Goddess above, Mueller was unreasonably sexy. He fought his impulses to just stare and tore his eyes away, drawing them back up to meet his, narrowing them teasingly. "As for your other question... you're certainly welcome to find out."

Olivier kissed him, cupping his face in his hands and pressing the length of his body to his. Their skin made full contact in a wave of heat that made Mueller draw a strained breath and Olivert sigh in sheer relief. Mueller was firm and warm underneath him, and his thick, soft hairs felt so good against his chest. Most notably, though, his hard, large bulge pressed firmly against the inside of his hip, making the prince smile deviously, then grind down against him. Mueller bit his lip, groaning, grabbing at his back with calloused hands.

This was Mueller, grabbing at his body, so hard for _him_. It was such an overwhelming feeling still, especially now that he was pressed right up against him. There seemed to be an awful lot of him, though Olivier was certain his slightly blurred memory of last night had been a bit of a mental exaggeration on his part.

"Mueller," he sang in a low, teasing voice, nipping the man's earlobe then slowly kissing down from the back of his ear to his neck, sucking on the thick tendon where neck and shoulder met, as he ran his hands along the sides of Mueller's torso and continued rubbing up against him. Mueller's breathing was heavy, hands trailing down the curve of his back to land on his hips, gripping him as he ground back up into him. The reality of this man was so much more exciting than any fantasy he'd ever come up with, and to his surprise and delight, he felt a wave of arousal as he slowly began getting a bit hard again. "I can't believe you made me come without even letting me properly touch you first. I'm going to have to show you how to be a little bit selfish for once in your life."

He slowly slid backwards down Mueller's body, kissing a trail down his collarbones and chest. He licked a circle around a nipple, flicking at it with his tongue, before sucking down hard enough to coax a soft groan from the brunette's lips. He breathed in, his face against Mueller's chest as he teased his nipple, then crossed over to the other one in an unbroken line with his tongue. Mueller smelled good, clean and dark and masculine, and he delighted in navigating the tangle of soft dark hairs as they brushed against his face. As he nipped at the second nipple he looked up at Mueller's face, and a bit of frustration was apparent. Hmm, perhaps he was going too slowly? It would be very fun to tease the man, spending as much time as necessary slowly covering every inch of his body with his tongue, but maybe that was best saved for another time. It was Mueller that needed to be selfish, after all.

"Olivier, _please_ ," Mueller groaned, threading his fingers into his hair, and it was the sweetest sound. 

"That's a good start," Olivier complimented, and then kissed lower, down his abs which were so gloriously hard and lightly scarred in a few places from battle. He couldn't resist; he licked a line from scar to scar, Mueller cursing as his stomach moved sensuously in response to the touch.

"Were these all from protecting me?" he asked, looking up at him with sudden soft concern.

"…Mostly, yes," Mueller admitted, still breathing hard. "But it's nothing, don't worry about it."

Olivier looked back at him with an expression of love and gratitude. Mueller had formally sworn an oath to offer up his body and life to protect the prince, this much of course both of them knew. But seeing the reality of it up close was... He felt a debt of gratitude that he only hoped he could somehow repay.

"You give me too much," he said, continuing his trail of kisses, circling his tongue around Mueller's belly button on a whim before reaching the edge of his boxers. He pulled them down, then Mueller assisted by raising himself up and taking them off the rest of the way.

Olivier stared. Mueller was.... well, "You _really_ give me too much," he murmured in both delighted awe and perhaps a bit of apprehension, lightly running his hand up Mueller's generous length. Olivier was certainly no stranger to men, although he had better luck with women, but... This was _something._ "I thought for sure I was remembering this part incorrectly."

"Olivier," Mueller grumbled, breathing hard as the prince lightly stroked him in a way that felt so good but was only a horrible tease.

"Oh, learn to take a compliment," Olivier said, looking down over Mueller's body with great satisfaction. Hmm... It would be simple enough to start from the obvious place, and he was sure that would be plenty appreciated, but if he wanted to give Mueller the most pleasure... He let go of Mueller's length and teased his fingers up the insides of his thighs, following his fingers with his lips and tongue. Mmm... Mueller smelled so good here, an absolutely intoxicating scent that was entirely _his_ , and the light sounds he made along with his breathing were simply delightful. With a bit of confident courage, he licked a line up the crease between his thigh and crotch, watching Mueller shudder, then repeated the same motion on the other side.

He'd imagined this scenario dozens of times, Mueller on his back beneath him as he slowly licks his way up his length, meeting his gaze with a look of lust. He'd imagined the way he must taste, salty, slick pre-cum coating his tongue as he licks curving arcs over his head, making the man shake and bite his lip.

All of his fantasies were immediately blown out of the water. Mueller looked at him with absolute awe, exhaling labored breaths, as Olivier licked up his shaft with the flat of his tongue, covering as much of the thick surface as he possibly could in one deliberate stroke. He was _so_ hard, tender skin feeling so firm yet delicate underneath his tongue, and as he spun his tongue around the underside of his head, memorizing the texture of the ridge there, Mueller groaned out the most erotic sound, hands tightly gripping the sheets.

Just like Olivier, he'd waited for this for years. He'd loved him, he'd _wanted_ him, he needed this just as much as the prince did and every little reaction Mueller made hammered this incredible realization into his mind all the more.

Olivier stroked up Mueller's length with one hand, coaxing out a dewy bead of moisture and lapping it up with the tip of his tongue. Mueller panted and groaned, looking at him with serious yet pleading eyes. He tasted good. He wanted more. He wanted to make Mueller feel _incredible_.

"You are so _delicious_ ," he said with wholly sincere fervor, then pumped his shaft more, curving his tongue around the head and eagerly tasting more of him. "Mueller," he moaned, licking his lips, so completely turned on now, right on the precipice of just unrestrainedly devouring this man. Mueller's thighs tensed and he stared at him with a desperate look, and any restraint he had left was gone.

He swallowed Mueller up, filling his mouth with him, and though there was far more than would fit inside he made his best effort, sucking passionately up and down his length, tongue swirling around him, stroking him with a matching rhythm. 

\---

"Oh, _Olivier,_ " Mueller groaned, eyes rolling backwards, hips thrusting weakly upwards of their own accord. "Ahhh," he panted as the prince sucked hard, moving up until only the head was in his mouth, then delicately but with lithe urgency moved his tongue across it, teasing him. Aidios, the prince was so completely sensual and captivating, so _confident_ at this, so entirely eager to please him. Olivier looked down at him with a kind of loving hunger in his eyes that gave him chills, maintaining eye contact as he sank back down, taking more of Mueller in.

He'd always figured Olivier had to be at least decent in bed, what with how many flings the man had had despite (or because of?) his... eccentricities, but his tongue was even better on him here than in his mouth, and Mueller ached with pleasure, the prince's mouth on him like velvet. The sight alone of Olivier sucking on him fervently, absolutely so in love and lust with him, made him dizzy, his heart racing a million miles a minute, and suddenly he completely understood why Olivier had come so fast.

"H-how are you so good at this," he groaned, eyes snapping shut on their own as the prince grabbed at his thigh, opening them just in time to see a devious smirk shine through Olivier's eyes in response as his head bobbed up and down. Oh, if he came so fast he wouldn't hear the end of it... But would that really be so bad?

Even the thought alone of coming into the prince's mouth brought him that much closer to the edge, and he reached down and cupped Olivier's head in his hands, threading his fingers up through his long side bangs, lost in desperate pleasure. Olivier's eyes smiled down at him with pure affection at the gesture, and _oh_ it was nearly too much, and he would have come right then and there if the prince hadn't released him suddenly with a parting lick, touching one of his hands.

"I love you," the prince said earnestly, in a breathy, winded voice, then gently flicked his tongue out against his head like a sweet little kiss. "I love you," he repeated in a serious, devoted tone, staring Mueller straight in the eyes as he put his mouth around him again, slowly sinking down with deliberate passion.

Feelings of culminating pleasure and emotions rushed through him, and Mueller moaned, a long, shaky sound, thighs shaking as he went over the edge, absolutely overwhelmed at the intensity of his orgasm. Olivier continued to gently suck on him as he came, swallowing everything and watching him in amazement.

He lay there catching his breath for several moments, eyes shut in exhaustion, mind a hazy, blissful blur. As he regained his thoughts, Mueller realized that he had never been with someone he loved before. Not like this. Had he really been missing _this much_? He opened his eyes to see Olivier smiling down at him, straddling him, gently caressing his cheek. Aidios, he was so beautiful, his familiar features painted with a soft, loving joy. Mueller reached up, tucking the prince's hair behind his ear, then leaned up and kissed him, gently hooking his arm around his waist.

Olivier tasted like him, which was a first, but he found he didn't really care - he just kissed him gently, heart overflowing with deep affection, slowly pulling him down onto him. The weight of his body on top of him was an intimate comfort, warm and soft and safe, somehow all there for him to touch and feel in his arms. He broke the kiss for a brief moment, then rolled them over gently onto their sides, arms wrapping around Olivier, holding him close.

\---

Olivert sighed deeply, snaking his arms around Mueller's waist, then the brunette kissed him again, gently flicking his warm tongue against his. The man had just come so beautifully and he was still all over him, soft and gentle, holding him like something incredibly precious that needed protection. It was perhaps the most wonderful thing the prince could possibly imagine.

They kissed slowly, softly running their hands along each other's bodies, looking at each other as they kissed, not saying anything, just enjoying the relaxed, yet new intimacy between them that felt as though it would go on forever. Finally they broke the kiss for a moment to breathe, and Mueller reached up and gently pulled the tie out of the prince's hair, golden hair falling to his shoulders. Mueller still didn't say anything, just glanced into his eyes briefly before slowly kissing his neck, arms tightening a little around his back and waist.

"Mueller," Olivier said softly, tilting his neck as it was slowly covered with warm, soft kisses, a wonderful tingling running gently down his body as Mueller continued down towards his shoulder. He sighed, heart soaring, a sense of happy relaxation and drowsiness setting in. It was still early, probably. Did either of them know what time it was? Did it matter, really? Either way, the prince had not slept well thanks to his hangover, and now that he was lying here spent, with just a comfortable amount of arousal, cuddled up to a more affectionate Mueller than he'd thought could possibly ever exist, he found himself beginning to drift off regardless of the early hour.

Mueller kissed back up his neck, leaving a soft nibble at his earlobe, then tightened his arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace with his very strong arms. "I love you," he whispered, breath warm against Olivier's ear. The prince's heart beat faster, drowsy mind waking up a little bit at the rush of emotion, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

"I love you," the prince replied, blinking away tears, unable to suppress his smile. "I'm so happy right now."

Mueller squeezed him at this, then let out a breath, loosening his grip on him a little bit. "Me too," he said, snuggling his head comfortably up against his neck.

Olivier softly kissed Mueller's neck and ear, coaxing a soft rumble from his lips. "Can I sleep here with you like this?"

"Yes," Mueller nodded against him, gently stroking his fingers through his hair, and the prince sighed, closing his eyes.

"Good," Olivert murmured, sliding his legs against Mueller's, his body relaxing fully, mind quickly drifting away into peaceful, blissful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! I've finally written enough other parts of this series that I felt comfortable getting Chapter 2 of this out here... It certainly wound up a lot longer than expected. Also, it isn't over yet...
> 
> If you enjoyed this chapter, please let me know by leaving a comment or kudos! This fandom is small, so even the tiniest bit of encouragement keeps me going. <3


	3. Anything and Everything

"Mueller," Olivier mumbled as he woke to the other man stirring under the covers. Mueller was groggy and made a soft rumbling sound as the prince wormed his way into his arms, curling up against his chest and letting out a contented sleepy sigh. He was barely awake and not yet capable of coherent thought, but waking to find himself so close to Mueller, skin on skin with blankets trapping their warmth together in the cold room, was absolute bliss.

He lay there in that space between sleep and waking, aware of little else but his companion's pulse beating underneath his ear, the deep steady beat a wonderful primal comfort. Mueller let out a sleepy breath and wrapped his arms around his back, rough, strong fingers lightly holding his waist and shoulder.

"Olivier," Mueller murmured quietly, his deep voice crackling slightly with a tone of pleasant surprise that made the prince smile widely and press his face against his chest. He slid an arm off of Mueller and around his back, embracing him even as the brunette still held him close.

"My love," Olivier sighed blissfully, shifting his legs slightly and feeling them slide against Mueller's. He couldn't resist looking up at his face now, and couldn't hide his smile as he did so. Mueller's mildly sleepy expression was open and vulnerable, looking at once serious and protective and yet awed that Olivier was there. The prince was so moved by this, chest aching, that he slid up and kissed Mueller on the mouth, a gentle, short kiss with just a hint of tongue. "Good morning," he said, smiling deeply, taking in his bodyguard's softened, but more alert expression - kissing him had clearly woken him up.

"Good morning," Mueller replied, bringing his hands up Olivier's back and then all the way back down to his hips, the prince slightly curving into the touch. Ah, this was so wonderfully _nice_...

He wondered if Mueller felt as truly happy as he did, to be waking up in his bed with him, holding Olivier in his arms. After all, Mueller _loved_ him, he had told him so many times already, and simply recalling this made Olivier feel absolutely giddy. However, he tried to compose himself somewhat for his lover's sake and not act completely like a teenager who couldn't handle his feelings, despite practically feeling that way.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, caressing Mueller's cheek.

"Yes," Mueller replied, closing his eyes and stretching his body in that just-waking-up kind of way, still holding the prince in his arms.

Olivier felt his chest push against his as he stretched, and even this small bit of natural, strangely intimate contact made his heart race. Oh, he was _in love._ He'd fallen many times before, but was it ever quite like this?

Mueller smiled at him, pushing a bit of hair out of his eyes, and he nearly fell to pieces. Okay, scratch all of that, he _was_ a teenager who couldn't handle his feelings. He was a damned fool, and this was his first love, and he was so happy he might just actually die.

He took Mueller's hand in both of his and pressed a kiss to his fingers, then another, then another. Mueller stiffened - was he holding his breath? - and stared at him, looking a bit swept away.

"I'm so happy you're here," Olivier said, unable to mask his incredibly sappy feelings from showing on his face.

Mueller smiled again - oh Aidios, would he ever get used to that? His heart beat so fast at this - and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Then he frowned for a second.

"Wait. What time is it?"

That... was a good question. Right, they had just taken a nap, it wasn't really morning. Who knew how long they'd been out for? Was the rest of the crew perhaps starting to worry that neither of them had appeared since early morning?

Oh, he didn't want to leave Mueller's embrace for even a moment to check the time. He sighed, burrowing up against his chest. "Oh, who needs time?"

"Olivier," Mueller grimaced sympathetically, stroking his hair, coaxing another, more contented sigh from his lips. "If we stay in here all day, people are going to get a bit concerned."

"Then let them," he dismissed, then sighed again in defeat. "...No, you're right. Oh, why do you have to be right?"

Mueller made a soft grunt of a laugh, then rolled over, releasing the prince, and climbed out of bed, bending down to pick up his pants and fish his ARCUS out of one of the pockets.

Olivert would probably have done the same if he hadn't found it impossible not to ogle the man's ass as he bent over. _Oh dear Aidios._ How many squats did Mueller do every day? It looked completely perfect, and he just wanted to reach out and grab it, or take a bite or something --

No, no, right. There was work to do. Why was there always work to do? Alas, the life of a peace-loving prince, constantly inundated with paperwork and putting out other people's fires. Reluctantly, he got out of bed on the other side, then picked up his own clothes, setting them on the bed and retrieving his ARCUS.

"It's 2:30," Mueller said with a grimace, just as he was about to flip his own device open. "Shit."

Well, that was a bit late, but after the past days of completely losing his decorum and being at least somewhat drunk at all times, probably not wholly unexpected by the rest of the crew... Olivier groaned. Far too much work to do.

"Well, I suppose we can tell everyone that I fell tragically ill and you were lovingly nursing me back to health," he suggested, winking at Mueller before pulling on his shirt.

The brunette sighed, flipping his ARCUS shut. "Sure, if I can clarify that you made yourself ill by drinking two full bottles of wine in one evening."

"Oh, please, I did not! I'll have you know I only drank one bottle," Olivier said, fastening the last button on his shirt and folding his arms indignantly.

"Yeah, that you actually remember." Mueller rolled his eyes, pulling his boxers on.

"Details, details." The prince waved a hand, picking up his underwear. They looked a bit off... Right, Mueller had _licked_ these. Oh, Aidios... No, no, this was not the time to dwell on these thoughts. He did not want to explain his behavior to the crew of the Courageous with a tent in his pants. _Down, Olivier. You can have more fun with Mueller after you make sure the rest of the crew doesn't think you're drunk or dead._

He threw those underwear into a nearby hamper, sliding open a dresser drawer to find a new pair. So many choices. He settled on some red silk boxers, a comfortably snug pair, and pulled them on, glancing over at Mueller.

Mueller was checking him out. _Mueller was checking him out._ He looked away immediately, trying to play it off, and Olivier smirked widely. "Come now, Mueller, you're allowed to look as much as you like."

Mueller coughed, drawing his lips into a line. "There isn't time for that," he muttered, zipping up his uniform jacket.

Olivier chuckled to himself, putting on the rest of his clothing. Pants, belt, socks, shirt, vest. He glanced in the mirror. Oh, his hair was a mess. He grinned at this, remembering exactly how it had gotten that way as he combed it in front of the nearby mirror, then began to look around for his hair tie.

"Here," Mueller said, tie in his grip. "Turn around."

Mueller had fixed his hair for him countless times, and though Olivert always enjoyed this, it was no longer just a platonic, albeit intimate, gesture. The prince turned around, lowering his chin slightly, and Mueller stood close behind him. He was close enough that Olivier keenly felt his presence there. He let out a soft hum of pleasure as Mueller gathered up all of the prince's hair in his warm hands, pulling it gently but firmly so as to get it all bundled together perfectly. He brushed a few stray hairs into place with his fingers, then fastened the tie in a practiced motion.

"There," Mueller said, stepping back. Olivier looked at himself in the mirror - all good - then turned to look at his companion.

Oh, he couldn't help but smile, looking up at the handsome man. Even the simple, utilitarian touch had made his heart feel drawn to him, to reach out and touch him. Mueller's hair was mussed too, and Olivier lifted his comb. "Your turn," he said, and Mueller sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed so it would be easy for the prince to brush his hair.

"You'd better not do anything ridiculous with it."

"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing," he replied with an innocent smile that only lightened at the brunette's frown, then started gently combing his hair somewhat into place, not overdoing it. Mueller leaned into the touch a little, letting out a small sound of relaxation.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Olivert said, combing a last few strokes through the back of his hair.

"...Yeah," Mueller agreed, and the prince set the comb aside to run his fingers through his hair, to make his bangs fall more naturally. Well, and also just to touch him. His thick, yet surprisingly soft hair felt good between his fingers, and it was difficult to stop once he had finished making him look presentable. Nevertheless, he did.

"All done," the blonde said, looking him over with satisfaction, and Mueller got up to check himself in the mirror, giving his reflection an approving nod.

"Thanks," he said, turning to face Olivier. Their eyes met, and they both just looked at each other, standing there a few feet apart. He knew they shouldn't be wasting time but the prince couldn't help himself, not when Mueller was so openly fixing him with a lingering gaze. He stepped close to him, gently running his fingers up Mueller's jaw and onto his cheeks, leaning in to give him a kiss. The brunette leaned down to meet him, and their lips met, Mueller's lips and warm breath so nice against his own.

It was _him_. He'd woken up again, and it was still him, still here, still so happy to kiss him. How was he going to get used to this? Mueller brought his hands up to cup the back of his head and kiss him more firmly, and Olivier pressed upwards, kissing slowly but with passion, flicking his tongue past Mueller's lips and tasting him.

Mueller groaned softly, somehow a satisfied yet frustrated sound, and met Olivier's tongue with his own only for a brief moment before putting his hands on his shoulders and pushing him back, hanging his head.

"We have to go," he said, voice reluctant but firm.

"I know," Olivert sighed, pained. Why did he have to have responsibilities? But, no, there was important work to do. He had to keep moving or else perhaps there would not be any more moments like this. He needed to use the strength Mueller's love was giving him to protect the country and them both.

He placed a hand lightly on Mueller's chest, slowly trailing his fingers down the thick fabric. The brunette stared at his hand, then looked up to meet his sultry gaze. "Don't think I'm anywhere near done with you, Mueller," he said with a smirk, eyes half lidded. "The next time I get you alone like this, I'm not going to keep my hands off of you for even a moment."

Mueller, to his delight, smirked back at him, eyes glinting dangerously. A very exciting chill shot down the prince's back, and for a moment he forgot yet again that they were about to leave. As Olivier's fingers started to trail down towards the brunette's stomach, Mueller grabbed his wrist with a strong but not uncomfortable grip that made Olivert feel a small rush of adrenaline. "Restrain yourself until then," he said, smirk gone, but that spark of danger still in his eyes. Olivier's knees nearly went weak. He nodded. Mueller released his hand, walking across the room to pick up his sword, placing it at his hip.

Oh. Oh Aidios, Mueller was too hot for words. _'Restrain yourself until then... It'll be worth it,'_ his tone seemed to imply, and the prince found himself actually wanting to comply, though lewd fantasies and the memory of Mueller licking up his length earlier this morning immediately started rushing through his mind as he stared.

"Well come on then," Mueller said, frowning impatiently at him, a completely typical expression. "Once you explain yourself we can go over plans for your return to Heimdallr. And I _know_ you're not wanting to just scrap the Class VII curriculum, so we can go over that too."

Right. Work. Okay. Come on, Prince Olivert, you can do this. Fulfill your role, plan a counteroffensive, and _then_ you will have Mueller to look forward to. Or will Mueller have you? Sweet goddess, why was delayed gratification so difficult?

"Of course," Olivier smiled, switching gears with quite a bit of a struggle. He grabbed a fresh cravat from his dresser and began to tie it around his neck. "I have some ideas that perhaps you could help me sort out..."

"Glad to hear it," Mueller said, finding his boots and slipping them on, pulling the buckles tight. Olivert put on his boots, threw on his coat and fastened the belt, adjusting his collar in the mirror and giving himself an approving glance, then began going over in his mind what he planned to say to Captain Arseid and the others. Oh, if he spoke his heart it would surely work out fine, he decided, then walked over to Mueller, who had gone over towards the door.

He took his bodyguard's hand in his, lifting it up and pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles. "Let us depart, my dearest companion," he said, confidently making eye contact before releasing him and pressing the button to open the door.

"Let's go," Mueller agreed, following close behind him.

\---

All heads on the bridge turned to face them as they entered the room, orbal door whooshing shut behind them. The bridge crew, only a few men, all saluted. Prince Olivert stood tall in front of Mueller, acting exactly the part of his usual self. It was such a relief.

"Your Highness," Victor Arseid said, turning around from where he stood at the helm. The Radiant Blademaster wore the posture and mannerisms befitting a man of his station speaking to the prince, but some concern was easily discernable in his eyes. "It's good to see you."

"Thank you, Captain," the prince said with a polite incline of his head. "I must apologize; I realize I have not been behaving the way that I should. My brother's condition has been a difficult burden to deal with, but it is no excuse--"

"Pardon me, your Highness, but I believe I speak for the rest of the crew when I say we all understand."

Both the prince and Mueller looked up at Victor sharply at his words. Olivert opened his mouth to start to formulate a reply, but the viscount continued.

"Surely, having a member of the royal family accompany us on this long-distance flight test is good press as far as the public opinion of the Courageous is concerned. But, Prince Olivert, if I may overstep my bounds here -- it does not feel right for us to take you away from your family at a time like this."

The prince stared, mouth open, then his face changed into an emotional, touched expression. "Thank you," he said simply, swallowing, clearly at a bit of a loss for words and trying to regain his composure, which he managed impressively swiftly. "But, please. It was my decision to come along and I have been a burden and a worry. I just want to let you know that you needn't worry any longer. I have found my resolve once more."

How humble and honest Olivier could be at times like these always struck Mueller deeply. Despite his overindulgent vices, apparent narcissism, and tendency to do the most ridiculous thing anyone could possibly think of at the least suitable moment, he was also a person of deep compassion and at times, painful self-awareness. Mueller silently let out a breath, relaxing his shoulders. The prince had done well.

"I'm glad to hear it," Victor said, nodding respectfully and giving the prince a small smile. He glanced at Mueller for a moment as if for confirmation, ticking a brow just slightly upward, and Mueller nodded. Yes, Olivert would be alright.

They went on to discuss the status of the Courageous at length - how the past four days in the air had affected the ship's operations, what this meant in terms of revealing the ship's strengths and weaknesses, how things could be improved and upgraded. The test was coming to a close, only another day left before they returned to the capital to rest the engine, a day after which the crew would head to Roer to have a team of orbal engineers examine the ship and analyze the new data in full. Everything seemed to be proceeding well, and despite the prince's worrisome behavior for the past few days, the crew seemed to readily accept with relief that he was doing better now, without questioning why, even amongst themselves. Ostensibly they assumed he'd just gotten sick of drinking, which wasn't _completely_ untrue...

Afterwards, the two of them found themselves in a conference room, speaking with various people over orbal communications. The prince had been holding on to an interesting idea... Form a branch school of Thors, under the guise of educating underprivileged but brilliant students from annexed territories, as well as some Erebonians with unusual backgrounds, to help them integrate better into the population and give them opportunity. It seemed like an idea that Chancellor Osborne would have no overt reason to object to -- students would not be separated by social class, and the curriculum would produce more young adults able to become an asset to the Imperial Army if they so chose. But Olivert, of course, had some extra tricks up his sleeve...

At any rate, the plans were complicated, and would take a great deal of time to put into motion. But it was perfect: something actionable they could do, a worthy effort to focus on. By the time the sun was down, they had managed to work out something of a project outline, and gotten some leads on who might be willing to help, though it was far, far too early to consider including anyone else in their planning meetings. It was still just late spring, at least, but there was a lot of work ahead of them for sure.

The prince, however, was throwing himself into his work with passion and determination. Had Mueller's declaration of love and loyalty really had such a dramatic effect on him? Mueller found himself taking long glances at Olivert as he worked, brushing a stray hair from his eyes as he bent to dip his pen. Focus and consideration were clear in his violet eyes as he jotted down the idea he'd spoken a moment earlier. The prince frowned slightly, holding out the document in front of him and scanning it from the top.

"I can't help but feel as though we're missing something," Olivier considered, pressing the stem of his pen to his lips. Mueller stared for a moment before mentally shaking himself out of it, then laying a hand on the prince's shoulder. He turned around to face him, a little bit surprised.

"I think we've gotten far enough for tonight, Olivier," Mueller said. "What we are missing is likely dinner." They'd had a late lunch, but he was horribly hungry, so some considerable time must have passed. He flipped his ARCUS open, then frowned at it. Aidios, it was 8:30 already? "...Yes, definitely dinner."

The prince smiled at him, an amused look that was slightly disarming. "Hearing you tell me to take a break is quite the sweet sound, my dearest Mueller," he hummed, touching his fingers to Mueller's and relaxing with a breath. "Dinner it is, then." He stood up, folding up a diagram they'd drawn and gathering their papers into a stack. "Though I don't know about you, but I'm certain that's not the only thing I'm missing..."

Long, ink-stained fingers touched his upper arm and Mueller held a breath, turning to see Olivier leaning in towards his face, bringing his fingers up to graze Mueller's neck. Shivers rushed down his spine; he'd been mostly alone with the prince all day, Olivier giving him small knowing smiles from time to time, and somehow they'd both managed to restrain themselves, but... He leaned in too, brushing hair from the side of the prince's face, and Olivier's teasing smile turned breathless as they slowly drew closer, close enough for Mueller to feel his warm breath on his lips. There was a charge to the air between them, their eyes fixed on each other, their lips finally brushing and then --

"Dinner first," Mueller said, strained, lips barely grazing Olivier's as he spoke. He tried to tell his body to move backwards, but it was all he could do to stay still. It would be so easy to just give in, to just kiss the man, to push him back against the conference table, to --

The prince smiled, stepping back lightly. "Dinner, then," he agreed, pressing the side of a curled finger to his lips and looking him over with amusement. "Well? Don't just stand there."

Mueller put his fingers to his brow, closing his eyes for a moment. He'd expected that Olivert, the impulsive and carefree man he seemed to be in romance, would just object to that and kiss him anyway - but this, this was somehow worse. Better. Worse? He hoped he was wearing a typical straight face as he pushed in their chairs and grabbed the pen and ink from where the prince had been seated.

Olivier hummed happily, opening the door with the press of a button and gesturing with one arm for Mueller to go on ahead. Mueller shook his head but went through as requested, giving in to the man's silly whim. He looked delighted.

"You can't hold open an automatic door," he grumbled, falling into stride with the prince as they began to walk down the hallway.

"Oh, but I just did," Olivier countered, satisfied. "It may not be as natural or romantic as holding an ordinary door, true, but that could be arranged. Only the best for my dear Mueller, after all." He winked at him, completely ignoring that another crew member was walking a few paces ahead of them. Well, it wasn't like they hadn't heard the prince flirting with him before, but still...

Mueller groaned. "I'm good, thanks."

The person passing them in the hallway gave them a respectful nod and Mueller a sympathetic look, which he returned out of courtesy. For some reason or another, he found the prince's teasing to be far less annoying today. Once they'd been passed, Olivert gave him a side glance as they walked, looking him up and down, and Mueller returned it, then rolled his eyes with a soft snort, looking forward.

"What do you want for dinner tonight, Mueller?" He asked quietly, as if trying not to be overheard. "I can get them to make you anything."

The brunette paused, considering how to answer this. He certainly appreciated fine food as much as the next noble, but he had been long trained not to put a strain on military resources and live practically. "Don't abuse your royal standing for me," he said, pressing the button to open the lift. The prince walked in, he followed, and the door shut behind them. Mueller hit the button for the second floor, and the lift began to move.

"My dear, dear companion, you have done me a great service today," Olivert insisted, face not polite in the least now that they were, temporarily, in private. He looked _hungry_ , and he had a distinct impression that particular hunger was directed entirely at him rather than any hypothetical food. "Tonight you can have _anything you like._ "

Mueller took in a breath, and spoke with deliberate calm. "Anything?"

"Anything," came the response, slow and sultry and from lips arranged in a smile filled with innuendo.

All sorts of thoughts he should not be thinking outside of a locked bedroom came to mind despite his best efforts. Images from last night, from this morning; the prince slowly licking just the tip before plunging down, far, far too good at this. Images straight from the very secret fantasies he'd tried so hard not to have; Olivier underneath him on a soft bed, this time gazing up at him with love, eager to take him --

The mechanical sound of the door beginning to open startled him out of this train of thought. Olivier chuckled softly, then walked out into the hall, Mueller following.

"Well?" he asked, far more innocently.

"I suppose I'll have whatever you're having," the brunette answered. Olivert looked back at him, eyebrows raised. Mueller made a slight frown. "For dinner, I mean."

"Of course," the prince replied with a nonchalant shrug, tapping open the door to the cafeteria.

\---

Given some further prompting, Mueller wound up picking a steak with a tangy mushroom sauce, medium rare, roasted vegetables and potatoes on the side. At Olivert's insistence a fresh fruit tart was added to this for them to split, and the two sat down to share identical meals back in his quarters, which thankfully had been cleaned up earlier by a maid Mueller had insisted he bring along.

Olivier looked at his food, eager to eat, but then his eyes caught on Mueller's large, calloused hand moving to pick up his fork. He looked up at him, feeling a wave of admiration that seemed absolutely silly - the man hadn't done a thing - but he didn't care, and smiled. "I'd normally offer you some wine here, but..."

His bodyguard groaned. "No alcohol today, please."

"I feel sick again just thinking about it," he replied, cutting his steak with a fork and knife. "Besides, I would much rather spend my time together with you tonight with all my faculties fully intact."

It was of course true; wherever tonight lead them, he wanted to take in all of it and burn every moment into memory. He put a bite of steak in his mouth and though it was delicious he barely tasted it, eyes meeting Mueller's, who seemed nearly like a restrained animal, trying to decide which was more important right now, food or sex. It was, unfortunately, food, Olivier had to admit. This wasn't something he wanted either of them to rush into haphazardly, but... oh, everything felt electric. Nevertheless, Mueller had to eat first, even though he was just staring. Olivier licked a dark drop of sauce off his lower lip, and the brunette's expression got even darker. _Oh, Aidios._

"Aren't you hungry?" He said lightly, gesturing at Mueller's plate.

"Starving," Mueller replied, continuing to stare at his lower lip for the briefest moment before finally tucking in to his meal.

Olivier could scarcely believe this man was so easy to read now. He made himself pick up another forkful of food, and they ate in silence for a few moments, both of them very hungry after working for hours on end, but also clearly equally impatient.

"How's your hangover?" Mueller asked between bites. _Getting obstacles out of the way, I see,_ Olivier thought with amusement.

"Completely gone," he replied. "Who would have known you were the cure?"

"Olivier," the brunette groaned, rolling his eyes. He didn't look genuinely annoyed, however, and the hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

Oh, that _smile_. Holding back like this was torture! They were alone together most of the day! All he had to do was finish eating and freshen up a bit and he could be all over Mueller, he told himself, but it was so _difficult._ The door was locked and it was just them, and...

 _Ughhhh._ He took another large bite, so anxious to get through this meal.

Mueller's eyes scanned him and his plate, then he raised his eyebrows. "In a hurry?"

"No, no, just hungry," he said in what he hoped was a nonchalant fashion, but then winked. Mueller shook his head. Olivier shrugged. "Alright, maybe just the smallest bit. But you can't fault me, can you?"

"Oh, I can fault you for lots of things," the swordsman replied before taking a drink of seltzer.

 _Ouch._ The prince winced. "How cruel," he whined, eyes wavering. Cutting men down where they stand, the Vander style was formidable indeed.

"That's not one of them," Mueller continued, looking a bit amused. "I'm honestly impressed with you, Olivier."

He blinked. "Oh? What for?"

"You got right back on your feet, just like that. I was really worried," he added, lazily spearing a cherry tomato on the end of his fork.

Olivier's chest felt warm at Mueller's concern, a grateful smile spreading across his face all on its own. And how was it that praise from this man always set his heart so aflutter? "How could I not, with you beside me? If I can win _your_ love, what can't I do?"

Mueller, who had lifted the tomato to his lips, stared at him, the color of his cheeks beginning to match his abandoned food.

It was true, though. Moreso than perhaps ever since he was a child, Olivier was overflowing with pure hope. An enormous crushing weight had been taken off his shoulders. If this love he'd thought impossible could come true, then surely -

Mueller stared at him, a complicated expression, as if he were really looking into him, and Olivier felt immediately compelled to say more.

"I'd given up," he explained, setting down his fork. "I'd lost hope. You gave that back to me," he said, blushing a bit at his own words despite all of his experience. "If one hopeless dream of mine can come true with even the most disastrous attempt, then I have to give the others my all."

He thought of his brother, sick in bed, plagued with nightmares; of his sister, her usual cheerfulness overshadowed by worry, being forced by circumstance to grow up too quickly. He thought of Class VII, finding the strength somehow to move on and find their own paths despite having held a funeral for one of their own not that long ago.

He knew that Mueller knew he was scared of what the future might hold, and that he could see it in his eyes even as he offered a smile with resolve. But hope - real hope - was not something that vanished when things seemed like they were at their worst. It was something you held on to despite your fear. It was looking ahead at a cruel world yet still finding the strength to face it all with love.

It was what he had to become for this nation no matter what his enemies did to him or those he loved, he had realized, and found himself crushed under that weight - but with Mueller's love and devotion, it just might be possible.

"I love you," he said, the words falling out naturally as if he'd said them thousands of times before, "and I love Erebonia, too. I need to do all I can to protect you both. But don't worry," he winked, "I'm only taking you to bed with me. The rest of the nation is not allowed."

"How generous of you," Mueller groaned, shaking his head. "Honestly Olivier, just when you start to sound like a respectable prince..."

"Well, we can't have that, can we? You can't very well pin a respectable prince against any surface in this room and have your way with him, can you?" He smirked, watching with satisfaction as Mueller's expression changed to what he decided was 'titillated disapproval'. "Let's leave our titles at the door, shall we? Unless you want to play with them, of course," he mused.

Actually, that would be rather fun, he thought... so long as they didn't overdo it. Yes, he would file that away for later. Tonight, however... Tonight would be special.

The brunette sighed heavily, putting a palm to his forehead. "Just eat," he said, silencing himself with the neglected tomato.

Well, teasing him too much before they'd finished eating was probably best avoided. Olivier nodded as if he'd just been given very reasonable advice. "First things first," he agreed, then went back to his food.

Somehow, they finished the rest of their meal without talking, only communicating by occasionally looking at each other as they ate. Olivier washed down the last bite of his fruit tart with a sip of seltzer, then rose from his chair, stepping away from the table.

"I'll be back very soon for you, my dear Mueller," Olivert said with a wink, walking off towards the door to his private bathroom. "You'd better be ready for me when I get back," he hummed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

\---

Mueller sat at the table for a moment, looking at the prince's bathroom door. Wait. Be... ready for him? What exactly did he mean by that?

Clearly, both of them wanted to have sex tonight, and certainly to go further than they had this morning. Ever the pragmatist, Mueller had considered that it may be wise to wait a few days at least... but realistically, now that the floodgates had been opened so to speak there was no turning back. To hell with waiting, he'd done far too much of that, and also to hell with convincing Olivier to hold off on trying to sleep with him for a while - just thinking about the work _that_ would involve threatened to give him another headache.

But, suddenly he realized that they really ought to discuss what kind of sex both of them had in mind. Mueller had plenty of experience being on top, and he would be able to make things easy for the prince if for some reason he didn't also have experience with that... But, well. Aside from fingers, Mueller hadn't really... Well, there was that one attempt with Neithardt many years ago, but they hadn't gotten very far before Mueller realized that he was absolutely the type that felt vulnerable while receiving someone else, and it just wasn't the right thing for him in that kind of relationship of convenience.

But if it were Olivier, then maybe... Maybe another time, but not yet. He wasn't ready, he needed time to work up to that. And, he thought with a quickened pulse as he heard the shower switch on in the connected room, he'd been thinking about fucking the prince almost every time he'd gotten himself off for months now. He _needed_ this. _'Tonight you can have anything,'_ he'd said... So, hoping desperately Olivier had really meant it, he made his way to his quarters in a rush and took a quick shower to clean himself up.

When he returned, engaging the lock behind him, Olivier had apparently just left his bathroom and turned to face him, an infatuated smile covering his features. He had only put a few layers back on and was simply wearing his shirt, cravat, trousers and boots, skin looking a bit flushed in that post-shower way. Mueller smiled back, looking at him appreciatively, and the prince looked thrilled, then smirked, walking over to him with a deliberate, stalking step.

"Oh, Mueller... Surely you can take off that stiff uniform?"

Mueller unzipped his jacket with attached cloak and threw it over the coat rack by the door. He had on a black sleeveless undershirt underneath, and put a hand on his hip. "Better?"

Olivier stared at him shamelessly with a bit of awe, which was extremely flattering but made him feel a bit self conscious - did he really look _that_ good?

Apparently yes, because instead of a reply Mueller suddenly found himself pushed back against the door with hands on his shoulders, Olivert's lips pressed against his, kissing him firmly with confident need.

Sudden or not this was exactly what he'd been waiting for all day, and Mueller immediately kissed back, circling an arm around Olivier's back and the other grabbing the back of his head, pulling him close and flicking his tongue into his mouth. The prince made a small happy sound and countered his tongue with his own, and Mueller couldn't help but feel a little outclassed, knees going a little weak already as Olivier spiraled his tongue around his and took over the kiss, running his hands over Mueller's upper body, fingers conforming to every contour.

The room was soundproof but maybe... maybe they shouldn't be doing this against the door, he thought briefly, before Olivier ran a hand up the side of his neck and brushed his fingers around his ear, sending shivers down his spine. He groaned, giving in for a few moments and peeking his eyes open - the prince was looking at him as they kissed with a pleased, proud expression, one which honestly he full well deserved - before breaking the kiss with a bite to Olivier's lower lip and taking a step forward with him still in his arms, causing him to step back.

"Where are you going, Mueller? It's too late now; I'm not letting you go." Olivert pressed a kiss to his jaw, _mmm_ that was nice.

"Somewhere better for this," he said, kissing the side of the blonde's neck, sucking at the skin just long enough to coax a sound out of him, then began laying possessive kisses all over his neck, pushing him backwards, Olivier for once very compliant and easily giving in to his direction.

\---

Being pushed back across the room towards his bed by a forceful, clearly very aroused Mueller was certainly something Olivier was not going to forget any time soon. All he'd done was tease him a little and then kiss him - was that really all it took? So much pent-up energy... Mueller nipped at his neck, following the bite with a quick small lick to taste his skin, and he shivered, reminded again that yes, he really did want him, and badly. This was real, and it was happening. His heart sped up in a rush.

The back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he smirked widely, looking up at Mueller in a teasing challenge. "Eager, aren't you?"

He didn't wait for an answer; instead, he took a handful of Mueller's undershirt and pulled him backwards onto the bed with him, running his hands up from his waist as he was pinned, the brunette looking down at him. His expression was so exciting - this mixture of hesitant affection and dark possessive lust, and Olivier, though equally comfortable leading, felt himself really, really wanting to tease out just what Mueller wanted.

"You look dangerous, Mueller. What are you planning to do to me? Should I run?" He paused, smirking. "Should I call the guards?"

Mueller snorted. "Maybe," he said, sliding the tie out of his hair, the tension on his scalp dissipating as his hair was freed. The brunette ran his fingers through it and brought the ends of his hair to his lips, making eye contact. "But didn't you say I could have anything?"

Olivier's heart skipped a beat as he met Mueller's hungry gaze, overwhelmed by the realization of what was going to be happening, and for a couple moments he forgot to breathe.

"Yes," he breathed out finally, "Anything at all."

He brought up a hand to touch Mueller's face, and he let go of his hair, falling down mostly on top of him as Olivier pulled his head down to kiss him, slow, deep, passionate. Mueller only deepened it, pressing his tongue into his mouth, touching his neck as they kissed, chests pressed together through the thin layers of clothing.

He peeked his eyes open to watch Mueller, dark thick eyelashes shut, brow furrowed, then raising as Olivier sucked on his tongue, cheeks flushed. Oh, he loved this man, everything about him - even the part that forced him to keep his clothes on in public, it all made sense now. He wanted every bit of Mueller he could get. If Mueller wanted _him_ \- any or all of him - he could have as much as he liked.

Mueller broke the kiss, panting for air, looking down at him.

"So what is it you want, my love?" Olivier asked as soon as he'd caught his breath. "Me?" He added, with clearly feigned innocence.

Mueller snorted. "Obviously," he said, then stood up and began taking off his shirt. _Nice._

"Me in less clothes?" Olivier suggested, undoing a button.

"Ideally, yes," the brunette agreed, unlacing his boots and stepping out of them one at a time.

The prince unfastened his shirt and slid out of it, tossing it aside off the far side of the bed. "You're sure?"

Mueller stopped midway through unzipping his pants to look at him. "Do you... not want me to be?"

"Aidios no," Olivier protested with a pang of alarm. "I'm just still kind of amazed. I keep half-expecting you to scold me."

"Olivier..." Mueller trailed off, looking at him with concern. He paused for just a moment then dropped his pants and got onto the bed next to him in his underwear, taking his hand. "I love you," he said, then bent down to kiss his hand.

The sincere, comforting gesture with those words filled the prince with so much emotion that he threw himself into Mueller's arms, pressing his face into his neck. "I love you too," he said, squeezing him, then let go enough to lean back and face him. "And I think I need you inside me tonight or I'm going to go absolutely insane," he added, speaking with passion, face flushed.

"Me too," Mueller practically groaned, grabbing his face suddenly and kissing him hard. Olivier's head swam, so swept away in the forceful kiss he barely registered Mueller's slightly confusing words. "I mean," the brunette added, breaking to speak, "me, in you, not--"

Olivier couldn't help but smile. Here they were, two experienced, full grown men, having gone down on each other then flirted like experts all day, and now that they had gotten this far they were just acting like fumbling nervous teenagers.

It was love. It was definitely, absolutely love.

"I know," he said with a little laugh, then kissed him again.

Everything silly was drowned out in a series of heated, back-and-forth kisses, each one deeper than the last, trying to outdo each other. Olivier spun his tongue around Mueller's, the taste and texture of him intoxicating, and Mueller groaned, sliding his hands down Olivier's waist to his hips, then pushed him backwards against the bed. The prince fell back, excited at the gentle show of force, and even more excited by Mueller's hands moving down to unfasten his pants and pull down the zipper.

To his disappointment he left his pants there, fully on but unzipped, and Olivier whined, pouting. Mueller looked at him with a straight face and raised eyebrows, then ran his hands down his legs, over his long boots and to his ankles, then quickly undid the buckles there and pulled them off his legs one at a time. Aidios, he'd been dressed by this man before when he was too drunk to willingly put his clothes back on, but being _undressed_ by him was... oh, it was going to be such a good thing that this room was soundproof.

The prince smirked, sliding his pants off, then kneeling on the bed to step out of them and toss them to the ground. They looked at each other for a moment - both in just their underwear now, Olivier's red and Mueller's a slightly surprising blue. It looked good on him, but what _wouldn't_ look good on him? He was beautiful, obscenely so with all his clothes off like this, and he carried himself with the earned confidence of a man who had put in the hard work it took to become as strong and capable as he was - but he also seemed to not be used at all to having all that hard work appreciated, or being praised for just being as he was. It was horribly charming, and Olivier wanted to compliment him, but for once all of the words he could come up with in this moment felt too shallow.

He placed his hands at Mueller's hips, eyes scanning up over his stomach and chest and his hands following, finally making eye contact as his hands reached the tops of his shoulders. Mueller brought his hands to his waist, looking at him, lips parted slightly.

"Mueller," he said with emotion, then kissed him, pulling him back onto the bed with him.

\---

Suddenly Mueller found himself kneeling on top of the prince, who had spread his legs beneath him and was caressing his entire upper body as they kissed - firm, sensual touches that seemed to say _this, all of this is mine._ His head spun, he touched Olivier's face and then threaded his fingers tightly into his hair as so much of his restraint shattered and he ground himself down onto the prince, groaning with relief at the feeling of him against Olivier, of Olivier against him.

Olivier moaned too against his lips, grinding up into him. His hands slid down to Mueller's butt and squeezed, tightly, drawing him closer, making them grind harder. He'd never been touched quite like this before - possessively, confidently, but with clear piercing affection. He'd never been looked at like Olivier looked at him now, with completely infatuated desire and lust, absolutely consumed with not just a need for what Mueller could do in bed but for him himself.

His heart and body both ached realizing this, and he kissed Olivier hard with a surge of passion, bringing his tongue into his mouth, wanting to touch every inch of this man that he could get a hold of. He ran his hands over his sides, and the prince arced his body into the touch, sucking on his tongue and pulling him close with an arm around his back - oh, Aidios, he was just so naturally seductive, how had Mueller managed to hold himself back for so long?

"Ahhh," he panted, shallowly thrusting against him as he broke away from his lips to kiss down Olivier's neck, sucking hard, probably leaving marks. He didn't care. It didn't matter. The prince was already covered in evidence that he'd been there so what was a little more? Olivier tilted his neck to the side and kissed at his shoulder with equal force, running his hands up and down the backs of his thighs and ass, and it felt so good he nearly couldn't stand it.

"Mueller," Olivier breathed into his ear, a hot puff of air against his neck. "I _need_ you," he urged, a bit of desperation in his voice.

Mueller pushed himself up, panting. "Me too," he said, nodding, looking down at the disheveled, kiss-marked prince who was decidedly wearing far too much clothing. Olivier apparently agreed, because he immediately sat up and took off his underwear, and Mueller followed suit.

Olivier was just as hard as he was, and he looked down at Mueller's erection and curled a hand around it, stroking him up and down in a light, ghosting motion that felt so good but would get him nowhere. Mueller let out a shuddering breath at the touch.

"Mmm," Olivier moaned, biting his lip and watching the tip slide in and out of his fingers, transfixed.

"Olivier," Mueller groaned, a frustrated sound of pleasure. "Please," he complained, not yet finding the willpower to make him stop.

"Please what?" The blonde asked with a sweet, affectionate smile that was right on the edge of becoming a smirk.

"Stop teasing me," he replied, reaching to grab the prince's wrist, but before he could, Olivier had already stopped touching him and gotten off the bed to open a drawer in his nightstand.

He returned, setting a small bottle and a box of wipes on the mattress behind him and holding a packet in his hand.

"No," he said matter-of-factly, tore the packet open and pinched the tip, then put the condom onto Mueller with his mouth.

It was all Mueller could do not to thrust into his mouth, the pressure and heat around him felt so good. _"Olivier,"_ he complained through gritted teeth, but the prince only responded by taking even more of him inside as he unrolled it on to him. Much to Mueller's relief he didn't linger once it was on, and smiled wantonly up at him for only a brief moment before taking the small bottle and lying down on his back, head on the pillow. Mueller followed, kneeling before him.

\---

Olivier spread his knees apart and ran a hand down his own thigh, lifting his leg backwards, fully exposing himself. Mueller was looking at him in near awe now, a gaze so heavy he could feel it. Oh, he wanted him so, so bad, right now - why did preparing for this have to be something that took so long? He opened the bottle, and Mueller started.

"Let me do it," he nearly plead, reaching out to take the bottle from him. "I know how."

"Oh yes please," he found himself gushing, gladly pressing the bottle into Mueller's hand. "You really are full of the best surprises," he said, watching with heart pounding in anticipation as the brunette coated his fingers in the slippery liquid. "I know what I'm doing too, just so you know. You don't need to hold anything back."

"Good," Mueller said, running his dry hand down the back of Olivier's thigh, making him shiver, then - mmm - gently over his balls then downward, cupping his ass. Then suddenly, a wet finger was gently pressing a circle against his entrance, coaxing him to relax. It felt so good, and he shuddered into the touch. Mueller's eyes flicked up to meet Olivier's, dark with desire, but features softened with affection. "I won't."

His finger pushed in, gentle but firm, and Olivier groaned at the sensation, forcing his body to relax. Oh... _Oh,_ a small part of Mueller was inside of him now, just the tip of his finger, then he pulled it out only to push it in further, wetter this time. Olivier couldn't help but moan, raising his hips and spreading his legs wider apart. He savored the sensation in excruciating detail as Mueller slowly worked him open with expert fingers.

It felt so exposing but so _good_ , his love and hunger for the man overflowing. He trusted Mueller with his life, with everything - trusting him with this too felt so natural, so completely right. Mueller looked at him amazed as he added another finger and Olivier took it in easily without resistance, smiling up at him, then biting his lip as he added a third, scissoring and stretching him open.

"Mueller," he moaned, unable to resist touching himself as he watched. Mueller was practically fucking him with his fingers now, pressing them in deep to get him as wet as possible, and his body was on fire, cock leaking onto his hand. The pressure felt so good, filling him up, but it still wasn't nearly enough when Mueller's hard cock was right there for him to have. He was so big, bigger than anyone or anything he'd had before, and truth be told ever since he saw him naked he'd spent the whole day trying desperately not to fantasize about this. He stared at him, thrusting up into Mueller's palm in a tight circle, so desperate for more than just his fingers, breathing hard. "My love, I need you, _please_ \--"

"Fuck," Mueller cursed, pulling his fingers out to drop more liquid onto them and curve them back inside. His fingertips briefly brushed something that sent jolts up Olivier's spine and he let go of himself for fear of getting too close, whining at the pleasure. "Just a little more... Oh Aidios, _Olivier_..."

Mueller kissed Olivier's thigh as he continued fingering him, a hard, rough kiss where there was already a kiss mark from earlier. Then finally, he withdrew his fingers and cleaned off his hand with a wipe, then slicked his length up. He knelt between his thighs, Olivier hooking his knees around his hips, body feeling far too empty.

Mueller brushed the tip right up against his entrance, and both of them drew in a shaky breath, locking eyes. Olivier reached up to touch the side of his face, looking at him with pleading desire, and Mueller looked back at him much the same.

"Mueller," the prince moaned, rubbing up against him. Oh Aidios he felt so good just touching him, hot and wet against him, and he'd never wanted anything so badly in his life. "Mueller, I'm _yours_ ," he said with passion, trailing his hand down his lover's neck. "Take me, _please_ ," he begged, body trembling for it, and Mueller looked completely overwhelmed as he held himself and slowly pushed in.

 _Oh,_ just the tip of him gradually sliding inside was enough to make him groan. Mueller was... big, tapered head ending in a wide flare, and the feeling of his body stretching around him was unbelievable, all-consuming, almost too much, but still he wanted more.

Above him, Mueller cursed, gazing down at him with a nearly tortured expression, clear it was taking a lot of effort to take such a slow pace.

"Oh - oh yes, Mueller," Olivier moaned again, eyes rolling shut as he pulled out a little and pushed in a bit more, repeating this again and again, slowly. Low, shaky, primal moans he couldn't even control kept falling out of his lips, the sensation of being slowly filled so thoroughly by the man he'd always loved more than anyone else so overwhelming it was all that existed in the world right now.

"Fuck, Olivier," Mueller groaned, pulling out a bit and sinking back in a little further with a hissing shudder of relief. "Aidios, you're - ah -" he pulled out, causing the prince to whine, "you're so -" he thrusted back in, a longer stroke, groaning at the tight suction around him and making Olivier cry out. "Shit, I'm sorry - are you okay?"

The prince smiled up at him, panting, touched by his look of concern. Aidios, the man was so handsome, especially when his expression was so kind - he wanted to reach up and kiss him, but he knew he couldn't do that quite yet in this position. "That just felt really... really good," he said. "You feel incredible, my love. Please... please, more... If it's too much I'll tell you to stop, but I... I want _all_ of you, Mueller."

Mueller looked down at him, face flushed, expression aching. "...I'm yours," he said, quietly, like a secret yet unspoken, and pushed in further.

This final, slow, deep thrust made Olivier's back arch and his legs lose all their strength, and he cried out, overwhelmed, fingers tangling into the sheets below. All of Mueller was finally inside him, so incredibly deep, hips flat against him, and he was so stuffed full of him he felt like his body would burst. The stretch was so much it made him a bit sore, body not yet used to holding this much inside, but the pleasure and fullness and the _love_ he felt at Mueller's words drowned it out.

Mueller was _his_. He was all his. Olivier's heart _soared,_ a teary-eyed smile beyond his control spreading across his face.

Mueller descended onto him, taking him into his arms, and pressing a passionate kiss to his lips which the prince eagerly returned, opening his mouth to let Mueller's tongue in, welcoming even more of him, as much as he could possibly get. He sucked on it eagerly, running his hands over his back, feeling him warm and firm underneath his palms. Mueller threaded his fingers into his hair, running his other hand down his side to his hip. Oh, Mueller was so good, giving him this time and distraction for his body to relax around him, but it had somewhat, and he ached for him to start moving a bit...

Mueller broke for air only to immediately place a wet kiss at his neck, sighing and slowly pulling out a little.

"Mmm," Olivier moaned, clinging to him tighter as he withdrew halfway then stopped, heart pounding in anticipation.

Mueller looked down at him, blue eyes swimming with lust and emotion, then kissed up the prince's neck, behind his ear, giving him chills. His lips grazed his earlobe as he began to push back in. "I love you," he breathed out heavily as he sank back into him.

It was all too wonderful for words. Mueller felt perfect inside of him, pressing against all the right spots and then some. It was impossible for him not to make a sound. He'd imagined this many times, and the Mueller in his head had felt good too, but the real Mueller was so, so... loving, Olivier found himself blinking away a tear, heart and body both full with a feeling of completion even as he ached for more.

"I love you too," he said, tilting his hips and gently sliding up and down on Mueller's cock, softly moaning at the incredible sensation. The brunette's eyes rolled shut with a shudder, groaning as Olivier began to move around him. Olivier reached up and touched his face to pull him into a kiss.

Mueller opened his eyes at the touch and kissed him firmly, parting his lips with his tongue, fingers still tangled in his hair. Olivier groaned into the kiss, still thrusting gently back up onto him, caught up in the intimacy as much as the pleasure. Mueller was... _inside_ him--

Even that thought fled as Mueller began to move his hips again, slow, practically teasing thrusts that Olivier met with his own movements. It was intimate, torturous, and paired with Mueller slowly sliding his tongue against his, staring into his eyes, as if he were savoring this moment, holding back so he could remember every detail of how it felt. Olivier kissed back slowly, swirling his tongue around Mueller's and bearing the blissful torture - until finally he couldn't stand it any more and he sucked hard on Mueller's tongue, bucking his hips firmly up onto him, gasping at the sudden burst of pleasure as Mueller was quickly driven deep inside him.

Mueller groaned so low it was practically a growl, then broke the kiss, looking into his eyes, that dangerous glint from earlier burning darkly in them. Olivier met him with a teasing look of challenge, and thrusted upwards again, smirking.

"I told you not to hold back," he barely managed to get out before Mueller pulled out quickly then thrust into him harder, a deep jolt to all his senses, making his legs tense around him and his mouth fly open. Yes, _yes_ \--

"Tell me again," Mueller said, rising up, lifting Olivier's hips quite effortlessly, placing him in a rather compromising position and sliding barely into him, grinding in a circular motion that made his head swim. _Just fuck me already,_ Olivier found himself thinking, exhilarated and desperate, feeling a bit like a cornered animal who wanted to be eaten.

"Don't hold back," he replied, nearly a command if it weren't for the tone of desperation, tightening his legs around him.

Whatever restraint Mueller had left finally buckled. Olivier cried out, body melting under the searing heat of Mueller plunging into him with a steady rhythm, hips slapping against his ass. Nothing, nothing existed but Mueller, filling and emptying and filling him again, muscular torso moving horribly erotically as he fucked him, sweat dripping down the side of his face, absolutely lost in lust. Olivier's body burned with raw pleasure, legs going weak, and he used what little strength he had left to pull Mueller down on to him, holding onto him for dear life, kissing his neck and ear in between moans. He had nearly always been coherent and leading in sex but he quickly found himself becoming a complete blissful mess, moaning and gushing encouragements as his body was pushed upwards with each thrust, his cock rubbing against Mueller's stomach and leaking between them, giving in to the pleasure and the unconditional trust he had for Mueller. Mueller held him tightly, sucking and biting desperately at his neck, groaning in pleasure.

"Olivier," the name fell out of Mueller's lips with an overflowing weight that made his chest swell and his body ache, " _Olivier_..."

"Oh, Mueller, _yes_ ," he said desperately as Mueller pushed in at an angle that made sparks dance at the edge of his vision. He was so close now, body burning up with overwhelming raw pleasure, head arching back as he dug his short nails into Mueller's back. Mueller repeated the motion again, panting and groaning along with him now, movements getting shaky -

"Mmm, ah--" Olivier whined, cut off suddenly by a rough kiss and - _oh_ , a hand curling around his length, stroking him. He tilted his head back, breaking the kiss, mind numb with pleasure. It felt so, so good and he didn't want it to end... "Mueller, if you do that I'm going to--"

"Me too," Mueller panted, looking into his eyes, overwhelmed and breathless. "It's... It's too late, I -- _oh_ ," he moaned, a low, primal erotic sound that Olivier lost himself in as Mueller sped up, hitting him in just the right spot to make his vision explode with stars and his body tremble in ecstasy, right on the very edge -- "With me, please," he begged, voice shaking, eyes desperate, "I need-- I need you--"

" _Mueller,_ " the prince moaned, bucking up into Mueller's hand. Mueller thrust shallowly into him a couple more times before burying himself deep and groaning as he came apart inside him, a beautiful, pure, raw sound of pleasure that sent Olivier over the edge, body shakily arching and eyes rolling back at the sheer intensity of his orgasm, coming in massive pulsing waves around Mueller and between them, hips spasming.

When he finally came to, panting and faded and dripping with sweat, Mueller had collapsed onto him, breathing hard against his neck, still inside him but rapidly softening. Olivier smiled as he caught his breath, stroking his hands across his back, stunned and amazed and so in love.

"Mueller, that... I..." he breathed clumsily, unable to find adequate words. The brunette raised his head, looking down at him similarly dumbfounded. "That was... you... goddess, Mueller..."

\---

Mueller stared down at Olivier, completely spent, but feeling alive, fulfilled, and strangely free. He was still inside the prince, and despite having come hard enough to probably last a man years, the warm pressure of him around him felt comforting, nice. He didn't want to leave just yet. A few moments longer...

How could he put this feeling into words? He'd loved Olivier, he'd wanted him, wanted _this_ for so long and somehow everything was far better than he'd even imagined in his unrealistic desperate fantasies. Olivier was all the trouble in the world some days, but he loved him so much. Looking at his face, glowing with flush, hair in total disarray, staring up at him in loving awe, Mueller felt so much affection it was probably embarrassing, but in this moment of soft clarity that didn't matter. He just leaned down, covering Olivier's lips with his own and kissing him gently.

The prince breathed in then kissed him back, softly, tongues barely grazing. Mueller touched his face as they kissed, feeling his soft, slightly damp skin underneath his fingertips. Olivier let out a deep sigh as the kiss ended, leaning his head into Mueller's touch.

"I can't believe..." the prince marveled, eyes wandering over him as if he were taking in a brand new Mueller. "Aidios, Mueller, I love you," he said, happy, contented and lovestruck.

The words pulled at Mueller's heart so strongly now that it was nearly unexpected. "Me too," Mueller agreed, faintly smiling with awe.

They both just looked at each other for a few moments, breathing slowing, just enjoying being close. Finally, Olivier reached up and touched his face, fingers running up along his jaw, eyes glinting with a smirk. "So are you planning to stay here all night?"

Mueller frowned. "Of course I am," he said. It wouldn't be that unusual, after all, some nights he slept in the prince's rooms having fallen asleep in the middle of doing paperwork, or pulled an all-nighter or something. People thankfully expected the two to be together for long hours, and didn't often interrupt them. A blessing, given their current circumstances. Mueller's heart sank a little. "You don't... want me to leave?"

"No, no not at all!" Olivier protested firmly, looking alarmed. Mueller's concern gave way to relief, but also confusion. "No, I meant _here_ ," he said, giving a little wiggle of his hips. Mueller shuddered at the overstimulation. Maybe this was too much.

"Yeah, I guess not," he sighed, sitting up with reluctant effort and gently pulling out. Olivier made a small sound at the motion, clearly at least as sensitive.

"Ah, slightly disappointing, but probably for the better," the prince sighed, a teasing look in his eyes. His eyes then caught on Mueller's chest, narrowing in delight. "Mmm, that is a good look on you..."

Mueller looked down at himself - his abs were covered with several smears of come. He frowned, then looked down at Olivier, who was also equally covered. The prince was staring at him with extreme smug satisfaction looking like _that._

"'Debaucherous Prince' is sounding more and more appropriate every day," he muttered, straight faced. Olivier just looked even more smug after that. Oh, why not just let him.

Mueller climbed off the bed to throw the condom in the trash, then searched for the box of wipes that had been knocked off the bed at some point. He retrieved it quickly and handed the box to Olivier.

"Are you sure you don't want to lick this off of me instead?" The prince wiggled his eyebrows. Ridiculous.

"Maybe next time," Mueller teased back with an eye roll. He grabbed a couple of wipes for himself, sat on the edge of the bed and began to clean himself off and dab the sweat off his forehead as Olivier did the same.

The prince sighed contentedly, tossing his trash in the bedside bin. "Next time," he said, turning to face Mueller as he laid down beside him, then spread his arms out with a sheepish look on his face, offering a hug like he'd done so many times over the years. Mueller had of course rejected those hugs in the past, even in recent years. This time, however, everything had changed. All propriety had been tossed aside, all the carefully placed walls between them torn completely down. This was the man he loved, plain and simple.

Mueller moved forward into Olivier's arms, wrapping his own around his waist, and was quickly held tight, the prince laying his head on his shoulder and relaxing with a sigh.

"I love you," Olivier said again, and Mueller squeezed him tighter, cheek pressed against his neck.

"I love you," Mueller replied, swept up in the intensity of his emotion, not wanting to let him go. He kissed at his neck slowly, and the prince made soft, happy sounds and melted into him, running his hands along his back. He relaxed, fully in the moment, holding him close even as drowsy exhaustion began to set in. Olivier was warm, soft, safe in his arms, and for tonight at least, he was going to stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this!! I'm so happy to finally have this chapter out here and finished. This fic, however, might still continue on - I still haven't decided whether I'm going to write further chapters as part of this fic or skip some time between this chapter and the next and start a new one. For now I am keeping this fic marked incomplete. Whichever way it goes, if you want to read more of this big ongoing story that extends way past just this one fic, please follow my series "The Prince and His Bodyguard." I'm so grateful so many people have been reading this in such a tiny fandom with an even tinier number of people active on AO3. If there's anything you'd like to see within this fic or the series timeline as a whole that I haven't shown yet, please let me know - I tend to respond positively to encouragement and suggestions.
> 
> Either way, may Olivier and Mueller always be happy together. <3


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